


Fifty Shades Of Smeg

by felineranger



Series: Fifty Shades [1]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: BDSM, Kinky, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 120,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU Red Dwarf version of that book everyone's sneaked at least a peek at.  Even you.  Go on, admit it.</p><p>David Lister is a struggling but gifted student at Saturn Tech when a chance encounter brings him into contact with neurotic billionaire Arnold Rimmer.  You know the rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dave Lister approached the large reception desk of the Rimmer Building (Saturn) with some trepidation.  The immaculately dressed blonde on the other side regarded him with an expression that was not hostile so much as surprised.  Lister didn’t blame her.  In the midst of all this gleaming marble and glass his grimy biker leathers made him stand out like a sooty footprint in fresh snow.  “Can I help you?” she asked politely, and to her credit her voice held none of the incredulity that was evident in her eyes.  “Um...yes,” Lister said nervously, “I’m here to see Mr Rimmer.”  One of the blonde’s perfect eyebrows twitched half a millimetre upwards.  “I have an appointment,” he added, somewhat pleadingly.  “I’m with the student newspaper...”

“Ah,” the woman’s perplexed expression melted away, “Of course.  If you’ll sign in for me and then take a seat.  Someone will be with you shortly.”  She gestured to the guest book on the counter and Lister signed his name while she picked up the phone and announced his arrival to someone at the other end.  He thought for just a moment about pocketing the sleek black pen – old habits died hard – but restrained himself.  Instead he went and perched self-consciously on one of the chairs against the wall, hoping he didn’t leave a dirty smudge on the cream fabric.

            How had he got himself into this mess?  He had no idea what he was doing.  He wasn’t even _on_ the stupid student newspaper.  He’d only volunteered for this mission to impress Kriss Kochanski and that was probably going to backfire spectacularly.  He’d met her during their first week at Saturn Tech and had been trying to upgrade himself from ‘friend’ to ‘boyfriend’ ever since.  She was beautiful, smart, came from a nice wealthy family and was training up for a place at the Academy that would eventually mean she could join the space corps as an officer.  He was trying to get a place at the Academy too, but if he got in it would be on a scholarship and he’d be leaving with nothing more than an engineering qualification that might get him in at First Technician level, so he didn’t have to start right at zero.  She was technically way out of his league and yet somehow he’d managed to worm his way into her group of her friends, despite not taking any of the same classes or having anything in common, but for some reason she seemed to have taken a liking to him.  

The student paper was one of the many extra curricular activities that she excelled at, and by rights it should have been her sitting here right now.  However, when he’d rocked up at her dorm this morning hoping for a possible lunch date he’d been confronted with a carpet of tissues and a very distressed Kriss.  She’d somehow managed to get the paper an interview with Arnold Rimmer, one of the richest men in the solar system who had just invested in the college, but had come down with the flu and couldn’t make it out there.  None of her other budding reporter buddies could help, they were all busy with exams or research trips, so she was going to have to cancel.  Lister, seeing her disappointment, had foolishly offered to go in her place.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time, particularly when Kriss had thrown her arms around him (germs or no germs) and proclaimed him the sweetest guy in the universe, but now he was having second thoughts. 

Kriss had given him her dictaphone and a sheet full of questions.  All he had to do was turn the tape on and follow what she’d written but he was nervous.  He didn’t belong in a place like this, he was completely out of his comfort zone.  He wondered if he should have worn the one proper shirt and tie he owned, but as he’d had to use his bike to get here it made very little difference.  On top of all this, he knew very little about this man or his business and wasn’t sure what he’d do if they started straying away from the questions Kriss had given them.  All he knew about Arnold Rimmer was that the man had come from seemingly nowhere to invent solid-light technology for holograms and was now obscenely rich with a capital O and a capital R, with landmark buildings like this one right across the solar system.  All in all, this meeting had the potential to make him look extremely stupid and wreck any chance he had of getting Kriss to like him.

Another blonde appeared at his side, looked him up and down for half a second, then invited him to follow her to Mr Rimmer’s office.  He stood up, clinging to the folder Kriss had given him as if for protection and trailed after her, hoping this would be over quickly.

            After what seemed like an eternity in the lift, they emerged into another sparkling lobby with large double doors at one end.  The woman beckoned to Lister to follow her and rapped briskly on the door.  “Enter,” a sharp voice on the other side intoned.  The woman opened the door and Lister gasped.  It was like walking out into thin air.  The walls, ceiling and floor were all made of pristine polished glass windows, giving the impression of floating above the city.  He was overwhelmed for a second, first by the view then by a sudden intense vertigo.  “This is Mr Lister from the student paper at Saturn Tech,” he heard the woman introducing him, but was so absorbed in the view he didn’t really register anything until a firm hand grasped his and shook it.  “Pleased to meet you, Mr Lister.”  He forced himself to focus.

            The man before him was younger than he’d expected, in his mid-twenties somewhere but with a bearing that made him seem older.  He was tall and slender but well muscled beneath his expensive suit.  His hair was naturally curly but currently forced into submission with gel.  His expression was haughty but he was regarding Lister with what seemed to be genuine curiosity.  “Hi,” he said when he finally found his voice, “I mean...thank you for seeing me.”

“Not at all.  Lucinda, bring us some coffee please.”

“Of course,” the woman clicked her way out efficiently and closed the door behind her. 

“Sit,” Rimmer gestured to one of the chairs around the board table.  It might have been an invitation, but it sounded more like an order.

            A little unnerved, Lister quickly took a seat and fumbled out his tape machine and cheat sheet.  Beneath his feet, tiny hoppers bounced down the street like toys.  He shook himself and then saw Rimmer looking at him with amusement across the table.  “What do you think of the office, Mr Lister?”

“It...takes getting used to,” Lister replied honestly.

“That’s the idea,” Rimmer spread his arms out, “It always pays to have people slightly on the back foot in business, I find.”

“It’s certainly worked for you,” Lister joked weakly.

“Yes.  It has.  Among other things.”  He leaned back in his chair, “You seem to be struggling with your machine.”

“I have a confession,” Lister smiled weakly, “I haven’t used it before.  And I’m not really on the student paper.  I’m just here to help out a friend.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“I was expecting a Miss Kochanski.”

“She’s very sorry not to be here but trust me, it’s better all round that she stays in bed.”

“Well,” Rimmer said indifferently, “It doesn’t matter much to me either way.”  Lister cringed.  He’d forgotten the man was a hologram.  How insensitive.  What a great start.  It was so easy to forget without the large stylised H most holograms wore adorning his forehead. 

 

“I must say you didn’t strike me as the journalistic type when you came in,” Rimmer added.  “You’re not wearing an artfully arranged scarf for one thing.”

“I’m more at home playing with engines than words,” Lister admitted, trying not to take offence at the dig at his choice of attire.  “I came here on my bike,” he added, then felt ashamed for trying to justify himself to this rich git. 

“What type of bike?” Rimmer asked. 

“Nothing special,” Lister replied, surprised at the question, “Just something I cobbled together to get me from A to B.”

“You built it yourself?”

“Didn’t have much choice,” Lister said stiffly, “I couldn’t afford to buy one.”

“But you like bikes.  As opposed to cars.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Lister was surprised and flummoxed by the question, “I suppose there’s something more...intuitive about a bike.  When you ride it, it becomes a part of you.”

“More dangerous though,” Rimmer raised an eyebrow, “Is that part of the appeal?”

“Danger?  Well...I’m not an adrenaline junkie but...yes.  You’re always that little bit nearer the edge on a bike.”

“Hmmm,” Rimmer said and Lister wasn’t sure if he’d given the right answer or not.

            He finally managed to get the dictaphone going, “Well...here we go.  I should er...start by thanking you for your investment in our college.”

“You’re welcome,” Rimmer replied flatly.

“May I ask what prompted you to bestow so generously on Saturn Tech?” Lister asked, reading from the sheet. 

“I did a course there back in my youth,” Rimmer replied, “I was impressed with the place.  And from a purely financial standpoint, it’s in my best interests to ensure that up and coming young engineers have the best qualifications possible.  I’m likely to employ many of them.”

“What originally gave you the idea for hard-light technology?”

“Cowardice,” Rimmer said.  Lister blinked,

“Beg pardon?”

“I’m an immense coward.  I went through my life in paralysing fear of death and pain.  I would have gone to any lengths, paid any price to avoid them.  One day I started thinking, if I felt that way that maybe others did too.  Hologram technology in those days was primitive and usually only available through the JMC for professional reasons.  Even for those who could be confident of resurrection in the event of the unthinkable, it was a miserable existence to return to.  Not being able to touch anything, taste anything, _feel_ anything.  I gave up my job in the space corps and invested everything I had into creating a small research company to try and find another way – a _better_ way.  And eventually they did.  The rest,” he gestured around himself, “Is history.”

            “So,” Lister asked surprised, “You didn’t actually invent hard-light then?  You just owned the company that did?”

“That’s right.”

“What happened to the guy who made the breakthrough?”

“He won a Nobel prize,” Rimmer told him, “Don’t you know that?”

“My science is a little fuzzy,” Lister apologised.

“He got the accolades and all the rest,” Rimmer shrugged, “But I got the cash.”

“That doesn’t seem very fair.”

“I didn’t get where I am by being a nice guy, Mister Lister,” Rimmer said scathingly, “But if it makes you feel better, he got plenty of offers on his own terms and is doing very well for himself by most people’s standards.  He also knows he has guaranteed funding from me for more or less anything he turns his hand to in the future – so long as I get a cut of any resulting proceeds.  So everybody wins.”

“Have you always been this successful in everything you’ve done?  Do you have a ‘recipe for success’ as they say?”

“No.  Before the solid-o-gram breakthrough I was an abject failure.  I was useless at school and useless at my job.  I only found success when I ploughed my energies into something I thought would benefit me personally.  I’m fundamentally a very selfish man.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lister said diplomatically, thinking to himself, _‘Wow, what a smeghead.’_ “Your family must be very proud of what you’ve achieved,” he ventured. __

            Rimmer’s face changed, “I don’t discuss my family.”

“I understand.  Privacy must be hard for you these days.”

“Not really.  I just don’t like talking about them,” he replied shortly.  Lister changed tack,

“What about a partner?  Is there someone special in your life for you to share your success with?”

“I don’t do relationships.”

“What?  Not at all?”

“My business is my priority.  I don’t have time for entanglements.”

“Are you gay?”

“Why do you ask?” The man’s hazel eyes flashed.  Lister cringed slightly under that stare, embarrassed and nervous suddenly.  “Um...it’s on the sheet,” he said apologetically, holding it up.  Rimmer stared at him a moment longer, then folded his arms and sat back in his chair, “Like I said,” he reiterated, “I don’t do relationships.”

            There was a rap at the door and Lucinda returned with a pot of coffee.  Lister sipped at it gratefully, glad for the brief distraction.  “So, what’s next for Rimmer Inc?” he asked, pleased to have a sensible question to ask.

“We’re working on several things at the moment.  We’ve branched out into a lot of different fields over the last three years.  I can’t talk about all of it, of course, but there is a very exciting project by the codename Wildfire happening right now.”

“What does that involve?”

“You’ve heard of the parallel universes theory?”

“Heard of it,” Lister replied vaguely.

“There are those who think it could be possible to break the speed of reality.  Cross into different universes, different dimensions.”

“And that’s what you’re trying to achieve with Wildfire?  It seems pretty out there.”

“So was the idea of bringing people back from the dead not so long ago.”

“True,” Lister smiled.

            Rimmer glanced down at the sheet between them, “You seem to have run out of questions, Mister Lister.”

“Yes, I think that’s everything.”

“Does that mean it’s my turn now?”

“If you want,” Lister told him blankly, “What would you like to know?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“You look younger.”

“I’m not.” Lister replied, a little peevishly.  His round baby face was a cause of constant exasperation – it was embarrassing getting ID’d constantly.

“Twenty is old for Saturn Tech.”

“I did a foundation course first.  I wanted to retake some of my school exams and get better results.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them,” Lister replied frankly.

“What are you studying?”

“Engineering and advanced mechanics.”

“With a view to what?”

“A scholarship into the Academy.”

“And then?”

“Into the JMC and try to work my way up.”

“You need a scholarship?”

“Yeah,” Lister replied uneasily.  _I’m poor, so what?_

“How are you funding your current place?”

“I work part-time.”

“Doing what?”

            _None of your smegging business._   “Saturdays at the Megamart.  Evenings I do bar work.”

“That doesn’t leave you much study time.”

“I don’t have much choice.  And I’m getting by – my grades are good,” Lister told him defensively. 

“I run an internship here,” Rimmer told him, “It’s good pay and it would count towards your qualifications.  I could slot you in.”

“Isn’t there a waiting list?  Or a screening process?”

“There’s both.  But a young man who can build a functioning bike from scratch is more than capable of meeting any screening requirements.  And as for the waiting list, I’m the boss.  I can employ who I like.”

“Well...thank you,” Lister said awkwardly, “But I’m not sure I can accept.”

“Why not?”

“It kind of feels like cheating.  I wouldn’t feel like I’d earned it.”

“So?  It’s a marvellous opportunity for you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Lister said, not wanting to seem impolite.

“You do that,” Rimmer handed him a business card.  “Call me if you change your mind.”

“I will,”

Lister switched off the tape machine and stood up, gathering his things.  “Thank you very much for the interview.  I’m sure they’ll be very pleased.”

“I hope so.”  Rimmer stood too and walked with him to the door.  He held out his hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.”  Lister shook.

“Think about the internship.”

“I will,” Lister lied.

“I do have one more question before you go,” Rimmer’s hand tightened almost imperceptibly on Lister’s.  “Yes?” he asked warily.

“Are _you_ gay?” Rimmer asked him, studying his face intently.  Lister was thrown.  It was at least three long seconds before he could formulate a reply.  “Um...no,” he said in a small voice, his cheeks reddening.

“Oh,” Rimmer said briskly, “Always nice to be clear on these matters, I think.” 

            He opened the office door and called through pleasantly, “Lucinda!  Please show Mr Lister the way out.”

 

            Lister felt oddly off-kilter all the way back to college.  Maybe it was relief that the interview had gone reasonably well and he hadn’t been escorted out of the building by armed guards.  Maybe it was the realisation sinking in that he’d just met one of the richest people in existence, a guy who could buy a small moon and turn it into a theme park just for kicks if he so chose.  Or maybe it was the slightly alarming feeling that the guy had actually seemed _interested_ in him.  To Arnold Rimmer, he should have been the equivalent of a fly buzzing briefly through the building - a nothing - but he’d asked him questions about himself, his interests, his aspirations.  Hell, at the end there...it almost felt like he was coming on to him.

            No, that was absurd.  The guy had been quite explicit that he didn’t do relationships.  Although that could mean anything.  He hadn’t really answered the question at all.  Lister wondered if he’d believed him when he said he wasn’t gay.  He’d certainly taken long enough to answer – but he’d been so shocked.  

            He dropped the tape off with Kristine’s roommate – she’d gone back to bed - and headed back to his own dorm, where his roommate Olaf Petersen was in front of the tv with several empty cans round his feet already.  “Dave!  Where you been all day?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Lister remarked, joining him in front of the tv, “Pass us a can, would you?”

           


	2. Chapter 2

            Lister lay awake that night, unsettled.  He felt like those hazel eyes that had scrutinised him so intently today were still on him somehow.  He played over the meeting in his head, wondering what it was about Arnold Rimmer that had shaken him up so much.  Was it the money, the power wrapped up behind that otherwise slender figure?  The fact that he’d been so much younger than Lister had been expecting?  Or was it that despite all the wealth and success, the man seemed so unhappy?  So alone?

            He obviously had issues with his family, maybe issues with intimacy full-stop.  And perhaps most of all, issues with himself.  Despite everything he’d achieved, the man constantly put himself down.  He’d told Lister he was a coward, that he was selfish, that he wasn’t a nice guy.  He’d described himself as a failure.  All of that at odds with the arrogant figure who’d built towers with his name emblazoned across them in every major city in the galaxy and designed a board room with a 2000ft drop beneath it expressly to freak out any potential rival who entered.

           He’d seemed much more at ease when he was in the driving seat, asking Lister questions rather than answering them.  _“Are you gay?”_   Lister cringed all over again.  Why had he frozen up like that when Rimmer had thrown his question back at him?  Why hadn’t he just laughed instead of blushing like a stupid school-kid?  Why had he had to think about his reply?

            He rolled over in bed, hugging his pillow to him anxiously.  Just because there had been moments when he’d felt...something for another guy, that didn’t mean anything.  He loved women, there was no question about that.  When he thought about Kriss for example, there was no confusion there. 

            But, a traitorous little voice reminded him, there had been confusion at other times.  There had been guys he’d looked at and imagined how it would be.  There had been dreams where he’d tried it.  There had been...that one time.

            He’d been in his first year at Saturn Tech, had only been at the college for a few weeks, when there had been a party in one of the dorms.  He’d gone hoping to see Kriss, but she hadn’t been there so he’d got drunk instead.  He’d ended up on a sofa in one corner, chatting to a guy on the Astronavigation course.  He was friendly and attractive, and when he’d casually unfurled an arm across the back of Lister’s seat he’d noticed but hadn’t moved away.  When he’d leaned across, bringing his face closer to Lister’s but still giving him the option to back away if he chose, he hadn’t done it.  His hand had travelled slowly upwards from his knee, along his thigh and Lister - nineteen years old and tipsy - had been rock hard before that hand ever reached his cock.  It was only when he’d whispered in his ear, after several minutes of furtive, breathless kissing and stroking, to come into his room that Lister had drawn back.  He’d made a meaningless excuse and scurried unsteadily back to his own dorm to masturbate under a cold shower.

            He’d seen the boy around campus, from time to time.  He usually gave him a warm secretive smile but had never approached him.  On one occasion, Lister had found he was smiling back, not sure himself if he was flirting or just trying to be friendly.  Did he give off some kind of vibe?  He thought of the way Arnold Rimmer’s hand had tightened on his just, _just_ the slightest fraction, as he’d asked the question.  As if to hold him place, stop him from fleeing.  Or maybe just to measure his response.  Had his pulse quickened, had his skin warmed to the touch?  Would Rimmer have noticed if they had?  He certainly would have noticed the blush that had threatened to cover just about every inch of his body, he had a feeling those hazel eyes didn’t miss much.  There was something so cold and meticulous about the man but...fascinating.  He wondered before he finally fell asleep, just how Arnold Rimmer had died.

 

The next morning Kochanski found him having breakfast in the campus canteen.  She was still clutching a wodge of pink tissues but looking brighter and healthier than she had yesterday.  “Dave!”  She dropped down onto the bench next to him, “I listened to your tape last night.  You did a fantastic job, thank you so much!”

“No worries,” he said easily, “They were your questions, all I had to do was ask them,” he hesitated, “I’m not sure he appreciated me asking if he was gay though.  What kind of a question is that to spring on a guy?”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “But he’s not married you know, and whenever you see him snapped at these business dinners and charity events, he never has anyone with him.  I was curious.  Maybe it would have sounded better coming from a woman.”

“It’s okay.”

“So what was he _like_?” she asked eagerly. 

“A bit intimidating to be honest.  You heard the tape,” Lister shrugged, “He’s not exactly the warm fuzzy type.”

“No,” she mused, “I’ve heard he’s not much of a people person.”

“You can say that again.”

“He liked you though.”

            Lister tensed, “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, come on!  He practically offered you a job on the spot!  That’s a big deal coming from a guy like him.”

“It’s just an internship.  And I’m not taking it anyway.”

“What?” Kriss looked aghast, “Why ever not?”

“I can do this by myself.  I don’t need a leg up from some rich bastard who wants to feel good about himself.”

“Dave, don’t be stupid!  Experience at Rimmer Inc would be a massive boost to your CV.  It would almost certainly guarantee your scholarship.”

“It’s different for you,” Lister said moodily, “No-one’s ever questioned your right to be here.  When you get to the academy no-one will look twice at you in the hallway.  I don’t want to be the guy who walks down the corridor and all the snooty officers-in-waiting turn up their noses and say ‘Oh look, there goes Lister.  He’s only here because Arnold Rimmer snuck him in on an internship’.  I want to be there because I’m good at what I do and people know it.”

“Okay,” she put her hand over his soothingly, “I get it.  I just think it’s a shame, that’s all.  And I really do think he took a shine to you – normally in interviews he only ever talks business.  All that stuff he said to you about his life before he was famous, about being useless at school and everything, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything about his past in the press before.  He opened up to you.”

“Maybe I should be a reporter after all,” Lister joked.

“Maybe you should,” she gave him a peck on the cheek and walked away. 

Lister didn’t finish his breakfast.  Suddenly he no longer felt hungry.  It didn’t matter he told himself firmly, as he pushed his plate away and stood up.  It made no difference if Arnold Rimmer, billionaire extraordinaire, had taken a shine to him.  It wasn’t like he was ever going to see the man again.  And either way, he wasn’t gay.  He’d told him so, so he might as well stick to it and try and feel a little more pleased about the kiss he’d just got from Kochanski.

 

            The next few days passed in a whirl for Lister.  He had a string of practical tests to get through, all of them challenging, and every spare moment was spent revising or at work but just occasionally, he’d see light reflecting in a window or a piece of glass in the workshop and his mind would go back to a clear prism in the sky, and the lonely man inside it.  He told himself that Arnold Rimmer was probably several light years away by now, doing business in one of his other gargantuan towers on Earth or Jupiter.  He told himself that that thought shouldn’t make him feel sad.  It shouldn’t make him feel anything.

            He was telling himself the same thing one night later that week as he stood behind the bar where he worked, polishing glasses ready for the night rush, their gleam under the lights making him think of the sun bouncing off that window just behind Arnold Rimmer’s head as they’d shaken hands; when the voice said, “Mister Lister, how nice to see you again.”

            The glass shattered on the floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

            _He can’t be here.  He can’t actually be standing here, looking right at me,_ Lister thought frantically, staring into the hazel eyes before him.  But he was.  Leaning against the bar in a crisp white shirt and grey blazer and every bit as cool and composed as Lister was suddenly hot and flustered.  “Hello,” he said weakly.

“You dropped your glass,” Rimmer told him helpfully.

“Er...Yes.”  Lister scrambled for a cloth to scoop up the broken shards. 

“Be careful.  Don’t cut yourself,” Rimmer told him sternly. 

“I won’t,” Lister said automatically, tipping the pieces into the bin with a tinkle that sounded almost mocking.  He took a deep breath and groped desperately for some normality, “I’m sorry, you startled me.  I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

“I have a meeting with the dean at the college early tomorrow.  I thought I would arrive tonight and take it easy.”

“It’s just...this is kind of a student hangout.  I’d have pictured you somewhere a little classier.”

“This place will do fine.  Nowhere I’d rather be,” Rimmer replied enigmatically.

            _Don’t over-analyse this,_ Lister told himself desperately.  _This is just a big coincidence.  He’s not here to see you.  Get a grip._ “What can I get you?” __

“White wine spritzer, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”  Lister quickly mixed the drink, almost smashing another glass in the process, and handed it over.  Rimmer’s fingers brushed his as he took it and he made himself take a deep breath.  All of this felt totally surreal. 

Rimmer sipped it and then nodded appreciatively.  “Very good.  Tell me, was your friend happy with the interview we gave her?”

“Very happy, yes.”

“When will it come out?”

“End of the month, I think.  In the next edition.”

“I was thinking, as I’m going to be on campus tomorrow anyway, maybe we should get some pictures to go with the article.”

“That would be great,” Lister said, “She’ll be delighted.”

“You’ll have to introduce me.  I’ll meet you both at the Deanery at 12pm if that won’t interfere with your studies.”

“No.  No, that will be fine.”

            Rimmer took another sip of his drink.  Lister watched his fingers, long and elegant on the thin stem of the glass.  His hair was a little bushier today, the gel fighting a losing battle against the curl.  It made him look softer, a little more approachable.  He wondered what it would feel like in his hands, if it would be silky and full, or thick and wiry.  “You never called me back about that internship,” Rimmer said suddenly, bringing Lister back from his reverie.

“Um...no,” he admitted awkwardly.

“May I ask why?”

“I didn’t feel comfortable accepting it,” Lister replied honestly.

“Don’t let pride get in your way.  I told you, you’re more than capable of meeting the standard for entry.”

“I know that,” Lister said boldly, “But other people might not.”

“Who cares?”

“Me.”

            Rimmer regarded him thoughtfully over his drink, “You’re an intriguing young man, Mister Lister.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” Lister added quickly, remembering who he was speaking to, “But you know the way things are in the space corps - the whole snobbery about where you’re from, where you trained, who you know...”

“Yes,” Rimmer told him meaningfully, “I do know.  I know very well.”

“Well, I want to do things my way.  On my terms.  Otherwise I’ll always be wondering...”

“Whether you’re really good enough,” Rimmer finished for him.  Lister nodded,

“Yes.”

           Rimmer finished his drink and set the empty glass down on the bar, his expression hardening, “I admire the sentiment, but I still think it’s foolish.  In my world, you get to the top by whatever means possible and you use whatever means necessary to stay there.”

“But then how do you sleep at night?” Lister asked plaintively.  Rimmer looked him in the eye and shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t.”

            Lister shivered slightly.  It was so easy to forget he was talking to a dead man, but there was more to it than that.  It was the misery, the defeat, in those two little words that chilled him and the implication they carried.  What did Arnold Rimmer do in the darkness to take his mind off the dreamless sleep he didn’t need and couldn’t achieve?

            Rimmer looked at his expression and smiled thinly, “You haven’t asked me to pay for my drink.”

“No rush,” Lister smiled weakly, “I reckon you’re good for it.”  Rimmer smiled, more widely this time, reached into his pocket and tossed a one hundred dollarpound note onto the bar.  “Keep the change.  Call it a tip.”  Lister was speechless.  Rimmer stood up, “I’ll see you tomorrow, David.  12pm.  Don’t be late.”

“Yeah,” Lister said dazed, “See ya.”

            He watched him leave and stared at the door for a few seconds after he’d gone, until his boss shouted to him to serve someone at the other end of the bar.  He quickly stuffed the money into the till – he had no intention of keeping it - and got on with his job, but his mind wasn’t on it.  All he could think about was 12pm tomorrow. 

Lister wasn’t sure if he liked Arnold Rimmer.  The man was arrogant, brittle and clearly had some very deep-seated issues.  But one thing Lister was sure of was that despite all of that - for whatever reason - he was hugely, frighteningly attracted to him.  _I’ll see you tomorrow, David._

He played the words over and over in his head through the evening and almost broke another glass when he realised that he had never told Arnold Rimmer his first name.


	4. Chapter 4

            To say that Lister was a little highly strung the next day was a massive understatement.  He’d phoned Kristine’s dorm in the morning to tell her the news and she’d been suitably astounded, “The richest man on this planet just walked into Joe’s Bar and started chatting to you???” she squawked, “That’s unbelievable!”

“I know,” Lister tried to make his voice more jocular than he felt, “I smashed a glass I was so shocked.”

“You didn’t?”

“Yep.  Dropped it right on the floor.”

“Smooth,” Kriss laughed.

“That’s me.  So can you come this afternoon?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Great.  I’ll see you then.”

“Dave...” her voice was coy suddenly, “You don’t think it was deliberate, do you?  I mean, you don’t think he was looking for you last night?”  Lister’s heart rate doubled,

“What?  No!  Why?”

“It’s just so strange that of all the places he could have gone to, he chose some crummy student bar.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry – no offence meant.  But seriously, ‘of all the bars, in all the world’ kinda thing.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Maybe he’s got a little crush on you.”

“Kristine!”

“I’m just saying it’s strange, that’s all.”

            Lister chewed nervously on his thumbnail, “I’ve got to be honest, Kriss.  I don’t think Arnold Rimmer does ‘little crushes’.  Somehow I don’t think it’s his style.  Besides it has to be a coincidence, he had no way of knowing I work there.”  _He had no way of knowing your first name either_ , he thought, but kept that to himself.

“Yeah, I suppose,” she conceded, “Just my filthy mind at work.  I’ll see you later.”

Lister pondered for a moment once he’d hung up the phone if Kriss would be jealous if Rimmer had a crush on him.  He didn’t know where to go with that line of thought, so backed away from it.

 

            As he and Kochanski approached the Deanery building that afternoon, Kriss tugged at his arm and pointed to a glossy black limousine parked outside.  “Look,” she whispered, as if it were a secret.  “I’m guessing that means he’s here,” Lister replied, trying to keep his voice light.  “Why would he bring a limo to a meeting at the college?” she asked, stunned, “He must have loads of cars!”

“Because he can, I suppose,” Lister mused.

“Who’s he trying to impress?” she shook her head.

 _Me!  Me me me!  Please...._ Lister thought.  _Don’t go getting your hopes up_ , his subconscious sniped back bitterly.  “Everyone, I think,” he said out loud, remembering the glass office. 

            They sat down outside the Dean’s office, Kriss clutching her camera in her lap while Lister tried not to fidget.  Eventually, the door opened and a small group of the higher-up members of the college faculty emerged, surrounding Arnold Rimmer.  Lister looked at him and felt a tingle of excitement spread through his body.  He was dressed in an exquisitely cut navy blue suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist.  His curls were firmly back in place, gelled down with precision.  He looked sleek and powerful, like a machine.  Lister wanted to run to him, plunge his fingers into those curls and muss them up.  He restrained himself.

Amidst all the handshaking, Rimmer looked around and his gaze fell on Lister.  He abruptly dropped the hand he was shaking, much to the owner’s apparent surprise and walked over.  Lister stood up shyly, wishing not for the first time that he was a little taller.  “David,” he greeted him cordially.

“Arnold,” he replied boldly and felt a certain satisfaction at the fleeting look of surprise that crossed his face.  _No, I didn’t realise we were on first name terms either_ , he tried to say with his expression.  “This is Kristine Kochanski from our paper.  She organised the interview I did with you...”

“I remember,” Rimmer interrupted him, “How do you do, Miss Kochanski?”  He shook her hand briskly.  “How do you do,” she replied politely, looking back and forth between them with a puzzled expression.  “Thank you for your time.”

“Not at all.  You have your camera, I see.”

“Er...yes,”

“Well, then let’s get on with it.” 

            He wheeled around and approached the Dean, “I’ve invited some of the students for a photo session,” he said, “Where’s the best place to hold it?”

“Oh.  Well, the debate chamber down the hall has the college crest on one wall.  We could get some shots under there.”

“Very good.  Show the way.”  The Dean, slightly flustered, complied and the party made its way down the hall.  Kochanski slowed down to fall into step beside Lister at the back, “He’s a bit scary, isn’t he?” she murmured.

“Bossy,” Lister commented, “I think he’s used to ordering people around.”

“What was all that about when you introduced me?” she hissed, “You two were eyeing each other like prize fighters!”

“I didn’t say he could call me David,” Lister muttered, deciding not to mention he’d never even _told_ the man his name.  “Word to the wise, Dave,” she whispered as they entered the debate chamber, “Don’t get pissy with a guy who can afford to have you killed, stuffed and mounted on his mantelpiece.”  Lister would have made a witty comeback but the words _stuffed_ and _mounted_ lodged in his brain when he caught sight of Rimmer across the room.  He went to sit quietly in a corner while Kriss took the pictures.   

            She set about taking an assorted selection of photos of Rimmer standing with various members of staff and some solo shots.  Lister was starting to drift into a bored daydream when she finally announced she had enough.  “Aren’t you going to take one of me with David?” Rimmer asked, slapping him out of his daze very quickly, “After all, he did conduct the interview.”

“Oh.  Yes, of course,” Kriss turned to him, “What am I thinking?  Dave, get up here.”

“I’m not really dressed for the occasion,” Lister protested, hanging back.

“Nonsense,” Rimmer said firmly, “You look perfect.”  Looking at their faces, Lister realised this wasn’t going to be an optional thing.  He sloped over self-consciously.  Rimmer instantly took his hand and he tried to fight down the tremble that started to ripple through him the moment they touched, but it was no good.  Rimmer felt it and looked curiously into his face.  He smiled at whatever he saw there and squeezed his hand, just as he had in the office.  “Smile for the camera, David.”

            Lister thought he saw Kochanski’s expression flicker for a second as she watched them and her next words made him sure.  “Such a lucky coincidence,” she said brightly, snapping away with the camera hiding her face, “You just happening to walk into the bar where Dave works.”

“Nothing coincidental about it,” Rimmer replied, all business-like, “He told me he had a job in a bar.  It had to be somewhere near the campus.  I had a member of my team find out the rest.”  Lister froze up.  His mouth went dry.  His hand went limp in Rimmer’s tight grasp.  “Why?” he asked, looking up into those stern hazel eyes, feeling like a mouse looking up at a cobra towering over it.  Rimmer looked back at him with apparent surprise, “Because I wanted to see you again,” he said as if it was obvious. 

Lister was still fumbling for something to say when the Dean walked over.  “Are we all done here?  I think there’s a group of students waiting to come through.”

“That’s fine,” Rimmer said briskly, still holding on firmly to Lister’s hand.  “I think it’s about time we broke for lunch anyway.  David,” he said sharply, making Lister jump slightly as he turned back to him, “Will you join me?”

“Um...okay,” Lister said uncertainly.  Somehow, the way he’d said it made it seem like it wasn’t a request.  He exchanged a glance across the room with Kochanski, who was watching the whole scene wide-eyed.  She shrugged helplessly.  “I’ll see you later, Kriss.”

“Okay then,” her expression, like his, was uncertain and maybe just a touch concerned but she remembered her manners, “Thank you for the pictures, Mr Rimmer.  It was nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” Rimmer said shortly, nodding curtly and striding out, pulling Lister with him. Lister, feeling somewhat embarrassed, scurried after him trying to keep up.

            There was a man in a black suit standing outside the building next to the limo they’d seen earlier.  “Taylor,” Rimmer nodded, “Find us a place to have lunch.”  He hesitated then glanced back over his shoulder at Lister hovering behind him, “Somewhere informal, please.”

“Yes, sir.”  The man opened the car door and Rimmer gestured impatiently for Lister to get in.  He clambered aboard nervously and Rimmer slid in more gracefully after him.

            Despite his nerves, Lister looked around himself curiously.  He’d never been in a limo before.  “Wow,” he said, “This thing is huge, man.  I think it’s bigger in here than my kitchen.”

“I like to travel in comfort,” Rimmer replied stoically, “Put your seatbelt on.”

            As the car purred out towards the city centre, Lister squirmed on the cream leather seat, fidgeting anxiously with a thread on the hem of his t-shirt, noticing a smudge of engine grease he hadn’t seen before.  Oh, why couldn’t he keep anything he owned clean?  “Is that girl your girlfriend?” Rimmer asked him suddenly after a few minutes of silence.

“Kristine?” he asked, surprised, “No.  That is...” he decided to keep things simple, “Well, no.”

“She likes you.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.  Do you like her?”

“She’s a friend,” Lister said diplomatically.

“I see,” Rimmer said flatly.  Lister wanted to make a joke, ask him if he was jealous, but didn’t dare.  He had no idea what the deal was with this guy.  He had no idea what he was doing here with him in this limousine or what he wanted.  But he wanted to find out.

 

 

           


	5. Chapter 5

After a few minutes they pulled up outside a small Italian restaurant.  “There’s a car park just down the block,” the driver told them over the intercom, “I’ll wait there for your call, Mr Rimmer.”

“Splendid,” was the clipped reply.  They climbed out of the car and went inside.  The head waiter obviously recognised Rimmer, because he immediately beckoned them to a small table in one corner.  As they sat down, Rimmer rattled off an order to the man, “We’ll have a large Toscana pizza, a platter of antipasti on the side – black olives please – and a bottle of the Vocini Rosso ’83.”

“Very good, Sir,” the waiter bowed out discreetly.

            Lister regarded the scene with bemusement and this time couldn’t resist making a joke, “So, you come here often?”

“Quite often,” Rimmer replied, missing the irony.

“Do you always order food for the people you’re dining with?”

“I don’t often dine with others,” Rimmer replied simply.

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”  Now they were out of the limousine and back on something that felt more like neutral turf, Lister was feeling a little bolder.  “What if I don’t like Italian food?”

“Everyone likes Italian food.”

“I’d prefer a curry.”

“Do you want to leave?” Rimmer asked seriously.

The waiter returned with the wine and poured out two glasses, leaving the bottle on the table.  Rimmer looked at him, waiting.  “No,” Lister said finally.

“Good.” Rimmer raised his glass and Lister clinked his against it cautiously,

“What are we toasting?”

“Lunch.  Now,” Rimmer folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward intently, “Tell me about yourself,” he demanded.  It sounded more like an order than an invitation.

            “You already seem to know a fair bit about me,” Lister pointed out, “You know my name, where I work, what I study...”  Rimmer waved this aside impatiently.  “Tell me about your background.  You’re from Earth, aren’t you?”

“Yes.  England.”

“Liverpool, to be exact.   I recognise the accent.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was adopted as a baby.  My dad died when I was six and my mother had a nervous breakdown six months later.  She coped on and off until I was eleven and then killed herself.  My grandmother took me in for a few years until she got hit by a truck when I was thirteen and I got taken back into care until I became a legal adult at eighteen.”

“Do you miss them?”

“I miss my gran,” Lister replied frankly, “I barely remember my father and my memories of my mother aren’t very happy ones.  What more can you say?”

“Did they love you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your adopted family.  Did they love you?”  Lister stared at him,

“Yes.  I think so.”

“Did it bother you that you were adopted?”

“Yes.  For a while.  I got over it.”

“How?”

“By reminding myself that it’s not where you start that matters, it’s where you end up.”

“And you ended up here.”

“Is that ok?” Lister asked, a little sarcastically.

“Yes,” Rimmer said matter-of-factly, “I think so.”

            The waiter reappeared and put a platter of food in front of them.  Lister cautiously took an olive, “What about you?  What about your family?”

“I don’t want to talk about them.”

“Hey – quid pro quo, man,” Lister protested.

“I want to talk about you,” Rimmer insisted.  “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, what you’re good at, what you’re rubbish at, what scares you, what excites you.  I want to know everything.”

“Why?” Lister asked, slightly unnerved.

“Because you fascinate me, David Lister,” he said, leaning forward again, “I don’t know why but ever since you walked into my office I’ve felt a strong desire to know more about you.  And I’m not a man who finds other people very interesting.”

“You found out a fair bit on your own,” Lister said, slightly accusingly.

“Facts are one thing,” Rimmer shrugged, apparently not embarrassed, “Some things I need you to tell me.”

“I’m just an engineering student,” Lister said in a small voice, “I’m really not very interesting at all.”

“You are to me.  Eat something.”

            They picked their way through the starter.  Lister was so nervous he could barely swallow.  He didn’t know whether to do cartwheels or run for the hills.  This man - this amazingly sexy, complex man - thought he was fascinating and wanted to know him better.  He was also a massive control freak and borderline stalker with the money and power to do pretty much anything he liked, which wasn’t an inconsiderable issue.  He answered the questions Rimmer peppered him with throughout the meal as honestly as he could, but the man persistently waved aside any questions Lister posed, barring the most trivial. 

Eventually, Lister lost patience.  “This isn’t very fair,” he said, “How come you get to ask all the questions?  You know, there’re things I would like to know about you.”

“The less you know about me the better,” Rimmer said darkly.

“Why?  What’s the big deal?  Have you got some dark, sinister secret I should know about?”

“Lots,” Rimmer said, and didn’t sound like he was joking.  “You shouldn’t get involved with me.”

“Then why did you insist on taking me out for lunch?” Lister asked exasperated.

“Because I’m a bad, selfish man.  That’s why.”

Lister put his head in his hands, frustrated, “Listen,” he said, “There’s a couple of things we need to get sorted out here before I go crazy.”

“Such as?”

“You say you find me fascinating.  I need to know what you mean by that.  Are we talking ‘frog in dissection class’ fascinating, or ‘I might want a relationship with you’ fascinating?”

“I told you,” Rimmer said stiffly, “I don’t do relationships.”

“So what do you do?  What is this?”

“Is that relevant?  You told me you’re not gay.”

“And _you_ never answered the question.”

“No,” Rimmer snapped, “I am not _gay_ ,” he put a scathing emphasis on the word, “Does that help you?”

“No,” Lister told him, “It just confuses me more.  Please just tell me what you want from me.”

“I wish I could,” Rimmer muttered, “I wish I knew.”  He looked at his watch.  “We need to start getting back.  You have your workshop session at three and I don’t want you to be late.”

“Should I be surprised that you know my study timetable as well?” Lister asked despairingly.  “If there’s one thing you need to know about me, David,” Rimmer said wryly, “It’s that I don’t do anything by halves.”  He pulled out another hundred dollarpound note, “Here, go settle up while I call the car round.”

            Lister snatched the money from him and stomped to the till.  Part of him wanted to storm off and make his own way home, part of him wanted to cry.  He was so confused. 

As they walked out of the restaurant, the limo slid up to the kerb like a faithful dog.  “Come on,” Rimmer said, “I’ll drop you back at your dorm so you can grab your things ready for class.”

“Would I be right in guessing you already know the address?” Lister asked bitterly.

“Yes,” Rimmer replied shamelessly.  Lister rolled his eyes and moved towards the car.  “Watch out!”  Suddenly there were strong arms around him, pulling him backwards.  He gasped and tumbled back just as a courier on a bike flew past the spot where he’d been standing.  He heard Rimmer shout something obscene at the man and lay dazed in his arms for a second to catch his breath.  “Are you alright?” Rimmer asked.  He looked up at him, leaning against his chest.  “Yes,” he said faintly, “Yes, I’m...I’m fine.”  They gazed into each others eyes, Lister mesmerized by each fleck of colour he saw swirling there, fifty shades melting together into the brilliant beautiful orbs looking down at him.  He forgot about Kriss.  He forgot about everything.

 _Kiss me_ , he thought dumbly.  _For the love of God, just kiss me.  Do it now._   He felt the strong chest beneath him heave as Rimmer took a deep breath, “Damn you, David Lister,” he growled, setting him firmly back onto his feet, “If you knew what you were doing to me...”

“What?” Lister asked breathlessly.

“Get in the car,” Rimmer snapped, “I’m taking you home.”

            They drove back in an edgy silence.  As they pulled up outside the dorm, Rimmer squinted through the tinted glass.  “Is that your bike?” he asked with vague horror.  “Yeah,” Lister replied sulkily.

“Is it safe?”

“It’s roadworthy.”

“That’s not what I asked, David.”

“My bike is fine,” he snapped, “I haven’t died on it yet.”

“Look, I know it’s none of my business but...”

“No,” Lister interrupted firmly, “It isn’t.”

            Rimmer sighed, “Listen to me, David.  Everything I told you over lunch is true.  There’s something that draws me to you and I can’t fathom what it is.  But I think it would be better if I keep my distance from you.”

“Why?” Lister asked, stung.

“Because I’d be bad for you.  Very bad.  You have no idea.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you why.”

“I don’t understand,” Lister said weakly, “If you’d just tell me what it is you want from me...”

“No,” Rimmer said firmly, “I can’t do that.  I won’t.”

“But you do want something from me?”

“Yes,” Rimmer told him, “Very much.  And that’s what makes this so hard.  I’m used to getting what I want.”

“So just tell me.”

“No.  Go inside, David.  Call that pretty girl you like.  Ask her for a date.  Get your scholarship.  Live your life.  Trust me, if I start getting involved – much as I would like to – I would end up destroying you.  Go.”

Lister stared at him, “Thank you for lunch,” he said weakly.

“The pleasure, Mister Lister,” Rimmer told him with pain evident in his voice, “Was all mine.”

           

 


	6. Chapter 6

            When Lister walked back into his flat, he found Kochanski sitting on the couch with Petersen.  This was a surprise in itself, he didn’t think the two of them had ever shared more than twenty words before – they hung out with emphatically different crowds.  What came as an even bigger surprise was when Kriss bounded across the room to hug him tight, “Oh, Dave!  Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said unenthusiastically, “I’m fine.  Why, what’s wrong?”

“According to Kochanski,” Petersen sounded vaguely confused and hungover, “You just got abducted from the deanery by a scary rich guy who she thought was going to violate you in the back of his limo.”

 _If only_ , Lister thought glumly.  “Well, that’s not exactly what happened,” he remarked, trying to sound amused.  “Are you okay?” Kriss asked again, “Seriously, Dave, when he marched you out of there, you looked absolutely terrified.”

“It was a little bit unexpected,” he admitted.

“What happened?”

“We ate lunch,” he replied limply.

“That’s it?”

“Yep.  Italian place in Saturn Centre.  Needless to say, he paid.”

“I told you he liked you!” she didn’t seem to know whether to be dismayed or triumphant, “Didn’t I tell you?  I don’t think he took his eyes off you the whole time we were in the deanery.”

“That’ll make the pictures interesting.”

“Will someone tell me,” Petersen interjected, cradling his head, “Exactly what’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on!” Lister told him exasperated.  _Unfortunately_.  “Kriss has it in her head that Arnold Rimmer has a crush on me.”

“Arnold Rimmer has a _mahoosive_ crush on him,” Kriss interrupted firmly, “I can’t believe you can’t see it.”

“I can’t believe you actually said ‘mahoosive’.”

“Oh, come on!  He _paid_ somebody to find out where you worked!”

“What?  Seriously?” Petersen asked.  _Yep and that’s not all_ , Lister mused silently.    

            Out loud he said, “Look, it was only lunch.  He just wanted to ask me some questions,”

“About what?” Kriss probed.

“School stuff mostly,” Lister lied, “And the internship he offered me.  Then he dropped me off outside and said goodbye and that he’d probably never see me again.  At no point during the meal or the drive did he try to interfere with me in any way.”

“This doesn’t add up,” Kriss said warily, “Why would he go to all this trouble just to find out stuff about the college?”

“Maybe because he’s just ploughed a load of cash in to it?” Lister offered.

“He could have talked to any of the students.”

“He already knew me.  Listen, I’d love to stay here and argue about this, but I actually have a class to get to.”

“And as Dave appears to be home safe and unmolested, and there’s no need to report him missing, I wouldn’t mind getting back to bed,” Petersen added.

“Don’t you have classes to attend?” Kriss asked him.

“Yes.  I also have a hangover and right now that is far, far more important.  Excuse me.”

            Kochanski looked up at Lister with despair as Olaf slunk away back to his room, “How do you live with that guy?”

“He’s okay,” Lister said easily, “He just has different priorities to the rest of the world.”

“I’ll say.”  She gave him an embarrassed sideways glance, “I’m sorry if I overreacted a bit.”

“No worries,” he smiled weakly, “It’s nice that you were worried about me.”  _Call that pretty girl you like_ , Rimmer had told him.  _Ask her on a date.  Live your life._ But right now he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He still felt raw from rejection and want, and he was craving a drug he’d never even got to take.  Kriss studied his face.  “Are you _really_ okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Just tired.”  He scooped up his toolbag from a corner of the room and slung an arm around her shoulders, “C’mon.  I’ll walk you as far as the quad.”

“Y’know,” she said as they wandered out, “Call it female intuition, but somehow I still don’t think we’ve seen the last of that guy.”

“Wait and see,” Lister replied, hoping his voice didn’t sound too sad.

 

He didn’t have to wait long.

 

For two solid days he threw himself into his studies, staying late in the workshop and revising long into the night.  He needed the distraction, needed something to focus his mind, because otherwise he’d spend every minute replaying in his head those brief precious seconds when he’d been wrapped in Arnold Rimmer’s arms, pressed against him like a lover.  What he’d seen in the man’s eyes in that moment had spellbound him, hypnotised him, and he couldn’t let go.  He couldn’t forget.  Even in sleep they were there before him, dark and brilliant with a kind of desperate hunger as if he were longing to devour him.  Nobody had ever looked at Lister that way before.  He’d never felt so helpless and yet so powerful in the same breath.

At the end of the third day, he was trudging back to the flat, muscles aching after a long slog in the workshop and dreading the idea of an early start at the Megamart in the morning.  Petersen, unusually, was waiting for him at the far end of the quad.  “What’s up?” Lister asked him, “Is something wrong?”  Petersen scratched his head, appearing uncomfortable, “Nothing,” he said, “Not exactly.  No-one could say there was anything _wrong_ as such...”

“So...?” Lister prompted.

“There’s something a bit odd happened.”

“Details, Olaf.”  Lister wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.

“You’re not expecting a delivery are you?”

“No.  Why?”

“Davey-boy,” Petersen said, “I think you need to come take a look at this.”

There was a crowd around the entrance to their dorm.  Lister could hear a murmur of excited chatter as he approached.  “What’s going on?” He asked as they arrived at the edge of the crowd, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“Lister!” One of the guys from his workshop elbowed towards him, “You legend!  You absolute legend!”

“What?”

“You’ve got to let us have a drive on it, dude.  I will pay you for the privilege and everything.”

“Selby, what are you talking about?”  Lister pushed his way to the front of the crowd. 

Outside his front door, there was a stunning, brand-new, straight from the showroom Ducati.

            He stopped in his tracks and stared at it.  “There must be some mistake,” he said.  “This isn’t mine!”

“Says here it is,” One of the guys from down the hall shoved a delivery note under his nose, “They asked us to sign for it.  There’s a note too.”

Lister tore open the envelope, his heart pounding.  There was only one person it could be from.  The note inside was short and handwritten.  It said simply _‘Something to take you closer to the edge’._

            “Fuck me, Dave,” One of the other guys, remarked behind him, “What did you do to deserve _that_?”

“I have no idea,” he said weakly and meant it.

“I’ve got a good idea” said another voice behind him snidely, “Lister’s got himself a sugar-daddy by the looks of things.”  Lister flamed red, he crumpled the note in one fist and spun around, “I do not have a _sugar_ - _daddy!”_

“Whatever,” the guy replied, “But are you really going to stand there and pretend none of this has anything to do with you being dropped off outside the dorm in a limo the other day?” 

Immediately, the buzz spread through the gathering crowd.  Lister was stunned, “How do you know about that?”

“This place has windows, Lister.  _Somebody_ was going to see.”

“You have got this _so_ wrong,” Lister growled, wondering even as he said it if they really did.  He marched up to the guy and stuck his face right in his.  “This motorbike,” he said slowly and clearly, “Is not mine. I never asked for it and I don’t want it.  And as soon as I find out where it came from, it’s going back!  Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” the guy said dryly.  There was an awkward silence.

“Dave?” Selby said tremulously.

“What?”

“If you don’t want it, can I have it?”

“I need a drink,” Lister said, squeezing his head between his hands.  Petersen put an arm around his shoulders and gently pulled him away, “That, my friend,” he said proudly, “Is where I step in.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

            “Is there anything you want to tell me?” Petersen asked, putting the bottle of gin down on the table between them with a thunk.  They’d left the campus and the gossip behind and found a bar in the city.  Lister glared at him, “Like what?”

“I may be a simple boy from the back-end of Denmark, Davey,” Petersen told him, pouring out an unhealthy measure into his glass, “But even I know that Ducati’s don’t just drop out of the sky.”

“I didn’t sleep with him, Olaf.”

“But Kochanski was right, yes?”  Petersen asked him seriously, “He wants you to.”

“The last time I saw him, he told me he would leave me alone.  He said I’d never see him again.  I don’t know what he wants.”

“What do _you_ want?”

            Lister picked up the glass and swigged from it.  He and Petersen had never talked like this before, their banter was normally drunk and meaningless.  Lister didn’t know whether to be scared or touched.  He swallowed the liquor down hard.  “I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Petersen told him, “Moping about the place.  Working too hard.  Is this man the reason why?”

“Yeah.  Kind of,” Lister admitted.

“You like him?”

“I don’t know,” Lister said again.  _‘Like’_ seemed such an ineffective word in the circumstances.  It was hard to imagine _liking_ Arnold Rimmer.  Lister couldn’t imagine hanging out with him, going for a drink, having a laugh.  _Wanting_ Arnold Rimmer, now that was something else entirely.  Going down that route, he could imagine plenty.

            “Well,” Petersen knocked back his drink and poured another, “It’s not for me to judge, David.  But is seems that until you work that out, there’s not much point fretting about it.”

“But what do I do about the bike?”

“There’ll be a return address on the delivery note if you really don’t want it.”

“How much will _that_ cost?”

“Tell them to send the bill to Arnold Rimmer.  He paid for it, so they shouldn’t argue.”

“People will talk though.  You heard them out there.”

“Can’t do much about that,” Petersen shrugged, “Don’t let it rattle you.”

“You should have a column in the paper, you know that?” Lister told him, “I’m going to ask Kochanski to slot you in.”

“I’m a wise man, David.  But right now I’m a sober man and that don’t sit well.”  He raised his glass.  “Here’s to you not secretly being a prostitute.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

 

Some time later on, Lister weaved his way unsteadily to the bar.  He was going to have a stinking hangover at work tomorrow, but he couldn’t face going back to the dorm yet and seeing that bike parked outside – expensive, beautiful and infuriatingly not his – just like the man who’d sent it.  He fumbled in his jacket pocket for some money and felt something unfamiliar brush his fingers.  He pulled it out and stared at it.  It was Rimmer’s business card – the one he’d given him at their first meeting.  Lister had shoved it in his pocket and forgotten all about it until now.  He stared down at the shiny gold lettering, the expensive creamy paper, and narrowed his eyes.  So typical of the man.  So lush and ostentatious.  So showy.  Lister was angry suddenly.  Furious.  Did this guy really think Lister gave a crap about all that stuff?  Did he think just because he was a poor kid from Liverpool, he could drop an expensive gift at his front door and expect him to come running?

Incensed, Lister grabbed his phone suddenly and marched into the hallway outside the toilets, away from the noise of the bar.  He dialled the number on the card.  There wouldn’t be anyone at the office at this time of night but he could leave a message for Arnold Rimmer telling him exactly what he thought of him and his present; let him explain that to one of his skinny blond assistants in the morning.

The phone purred a few times and then there was a click and a familiar voice barked, “Rimmer.”  Lister paused for a moment, waiting for the beep, then felt a cold horror spread through him as he realised this wasn’t an answer machine.  Rimmer had picked up the phone. 

“Hello?” the man snapped impatiently.  Lister rallied,

“What do you think you’re playing at, man?” he snapped back.  Now it was Rimmer’s turn to pause. 

“David?” he asked puzzled.

“How many other young scousers have your phone number?” Lister asked sarcastically, “Or am I just one of a collection?”

“No,” Rimmer replied dryly, “You are definitely the one and only.  Are you drunk?”

“Yes.  And pissed off.”

“Where are you?”

“None of your smegging business!”

“Then why are you calling me?”

“So you can tell me why there is a thirty grand motorbike sitting outside my front door for a start!” Lister said angrily.

“Oh, it arrived then?  That was fast.”

“Yes.  It arrived.  Now you can come and get it.”

“Don’t you like it?  I can get you a different one.”

“I don’t want anything from you!  Why the hell would you do this?”

“It’s just a little something to say sorry,” Rimmer sounded awkward.

“Sorry?” Lister repeated.

“For the other day.  The way we left things.  I don’t think I handled it very well.”

“A card would have done the trick.”

“You need a new bike.  I don’t want you speeding around on that other thing, it’s not safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe!” Lister told him, insulted, “I built it, remember?”

“When you told me you’d built your own bike, I assumed you meant you’d built it out of bike parts,” Rimmer replied, “Not a bunch of scrap metal from the local tip.  I mean, kudos on the engineering skills that must have been required to make that thing drivable, Dave, but seriously.”

“It is none of your business what I drive, or how safe it is or isn’t!” Lister seethed, “Just have someone come and take that thing away!”

            “You know,” Rimmer said huffily, “I _thought_ you’d be pleased.”

“I’d be more pleased if the entire campus weren’t under the impression that I earned that bike by performing sexual favours in the back of your limo!” Lister exploded.  Rimmer paused.  “Is that what people are saying?” he asked cautiously.

“What else were they going to think?  They see me climbing out of a swanky car and two days later there’s a brand new shiny toy outside with my name on it?”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t think about it like that.” The apology sounded genuine, but Lister was past caring,

“Well, it’s too late now.”

“Look, if you want rid of the bike then just sell it.  I don’t want it back and you could use the money.”

“I do not need _your_ money,” Lister hissed furious, “What the hell do you think I am?  Is that what all this was about?  Do you think this _impresses_ me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand you!” Lister shouted, “You really are fifty shades of smegged up, man!  You chase me, then push me away!  You tell me we have to stay away from each other, then buy me crazy presents!  What is the deal with you?  Why do you keep messing with me???”

“Where are you, David?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“You’re drunk and you’re upset.  I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m with my friends.”

“Tell me where you are.”

“No!”

“David Lister, you tell me where you are or so help me...”

“Screw you!” Lister shouted down the phone, “You can’t tell me what to do and you can’t buy me with expensive junk!”

“David...” Rimmer sounded livid now.

“You know what the really stupid thing is?” Lister continued, realising suddenly that he had tears rolling down his cheeks, “You didn’t even need to.  You should have saved your money and kept the bike, man.  I would have fucked you without it.”  He hung up the phone.

            He leaned back against the wall, trembling from head to foot.  Oh fuck.  Oh smeg.  What had he just done?  What had he _done?_   The phone rang in his hand, making him jump.  He rejected the call.  Trying to pull himself together, he marched into the men’s room and splashed some water on his face.  His phone rang again.  He switched it off. 

            Unsteadily he made his way back to their table.  “Where did you go?” Petersen asked.  He’d obviously got sick of waiting and bought another bottle himself.  “Olaf,” his voice sounded tiny and unsteady, “I did something stupid.  Really stupid.”

“Are we talking ‘pissed on the jukebox thinking it was a toilet’ stupid, or are we talking ‘cops are on their way, leg it’ stupid?” Petersen asked.  Lister was impressed.  Even in a state of almost total inebriation, Olaf Petersen was a man who knew how to get to the point.  “Somewhere in the middle,” he confessed, “I called him.”  Petersen put down his drink and stared at him gravely, “Just now?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I think I may have pissed him off and made a complete and utter twat of myself at the same time.”

“He’ll probably be wanting that bike back then.”

“Oh smeg.  Oh smeggy smegging smeg...”

“Dave,” Petersen pushed his glass towards him, “What’s done is done.  Have another drink and forget about it.”

“But what if...”

“Is he going to hurt you?” Petersen interrupted firmly.

“Probably not,” Lister said weakly.

“Is he going to call the cops and report you for making a drunk phone call?”

“I doubt it.”

“Then forget the son of a bitch.  Drink.”

            Part of Lister knew that another drink right now was probably the last thing he needed.  But why not?  What else could possibly go wrong tonight?  It wasn’t like he could really make things any worse.  He helped Petersen tackle the second bottle until the room started swaying alarmingly.  “I don’t feel great,” he said weakly.  “I’m going to go for a ciggie.  You comin’?”  Petersen waved him away, shaking his head.  He was watching a group of girls at the next table. 

            Lister staggered upright and made his way outside.  The evening was chilly and there was nobody else about.  He leaned against the wall and popped a cigarette into his mouth, then went cross-eyed trying to light up.  It would have been easier if he could only see one of the cigarette instead of two.  “I’d just give up if I were you,” an amused voice said after a minute or so.  Lister jumped and dropped his lighter.  The boy from the astronavigation course – the boy from the party – was leaning against the wall next to him.  He leaned over and gently plucked the cigarette from between Lister’s lips, “Smoking’s bad for you anyway.”

“Hi,” Lister said awkwardly.

“Hi.”

“If you’re not after a smoke then what are you doing out here?” Lister asked guardedly. 

“I saw you come out here.  Figured you looked a bit wobbly.  Thought I’d check you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” Lister said shortly.

“You’re hammered,” the boy corrected.

“What are you gonna do?” Lister asked, “Call my mum?”

“I think someone should take you home.”

“Oh really?” Lister asked innocently, “You for instance?”

“Maybe,” the guy leaned forward, “How about it?  We’ve got a little unfinished business, as I recall.”

            Lister didn’t know what to do.  The idea was appealing but...scary.  He remembered the way this guy had touched him that night, how good it had felt, but just like then something was holding him back.  Something felt wrong.  Or maybe it was just that after being so close to Arnold Rimmer nothing was going to be as good.  The boy moved in front of him, effectively pinning him against the wall, “What do you reckon, Dave?  Think we can still make a night of it?”

“I’m really drunk,” Lister told him weakly, “I don’t think it’s a great idea.”

“I think,” the guy slid his hands over Lister’s hips and bent to kiss the side of his neck, “It’s a _fantastic_ idea.”

“Look,” Lister said desperately, squirming away, “You’ve got the wrong idea.  I’m not...I’ve never...I don’t _do_ this.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” the boy smiled secretively.

“What?” Lister stared at him.

“Word on campus is that you do all kinds of things,” the guy cocked an eyebrow, “For the right price.” 

“You...!” Lister shoved him away, speechless, and was going to march back inside but lost his balance. 

The guy grabbed his wrists and pushed him back against the wall.  “Oh, come on, don’t be shy.  I can’t give you a motorbike but I’m sure we can come to some kind of...arrangement.”

“Get your hands off me, you bastard!”

“Now, that’s not very nice.  You won’t get a tip, behaving like that.”  He leaned forward and started to kiss his face, “I’m going to show you how it’s really done, Lister,” he growled, “Show you a few tricks your rich boyfriend doesn’t know.”

“Stop it! Let me go!  Let me _go!_ ”  The guy roughly grabbed his jaw and forced his mouth onto his.

“Excuse me,” Another voice chimed in, “I believe he told you to let go.”

            The boy was pulled off him and Lister watched, astounded as he was thrown backwards into a cluster of empty patio tables and chairs.  His defender turned around and Lister’s legs gave way.  He slid down the wall to sit with a thud on the floor as Arnold Rimmer walked over to him.  “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head.  “No way.  This is not happening.”

“Look at the state of you,” Rimmer said crossly, pulling him to his feet.

“You’re not here,” Lister put his hands over his eyes, “This is all in my head.”

“I _am_ here,” Rimmer pulled his hands away from his eyes, exasperated, “And I am not best pleased.  How much have you had to drink?”

“Too much,” the boy from college snarled, clambering to his feet, “He’s off his face.  He started it!”

“You get out of here before I really decide to do you some damage,” Rimmer wheeled around, “And if you ever, _ever_ , go near David again I will make you sorry you were ever born.  Now get out of here.”

            “What,” Lister asked faintly, “Are you doing here?”

“What do you think?  You call me up, drunk as a weevil in a barrel of beer, practically crying your eyes out and expect me to do nothing?”

“How did you find me?”

“I tracked your phone.”

“You did _what?_ ”

“I had to do something.”

“You tracked my phone.  You tracked my _phone_.  I was right about you!  You really are some crazy stalker!”

“You can do it over the internet.  It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not the point!  You had no right!”

“I’m terribly sorry.  Should I apologise to your friend and leave you to carry on where I found you?”

“You are unbelievable!”

            “Dave?” Petersen leaned out precariously between the patio doors, “You okay out there?”

“Petersen,” Lister said weakly, “This is Arnold Rimmer.”

“Ah,” Petersen said, “The sugar-daddy.”

“Excuse me?” Rimmer said haughtily, “Who are you?”

“This is my roommate, Olaf Petersen.”

“Glad to meet you,” Petersen saluted, “Although as Dave’s friend I am duty bound to tell you that if you continue to harass my friend I will have to punch you.  Sorry, but that’s just how it is.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Rimmer replied, his voice acidic, “But I feel I should point out that as a hard-light hologram, all you will achieve by punching me is a broken hand.  And for your information, I have no intention of ‘harassing’ David.”

“Then I won’t have to break my hand.  Dave, you okay?”

            Lister - very drunk, very confused and very emotional – vomited.

 


	8. Chapter 8

            _I puked in front of_ _Arnold_ _Rimmer.  Oh God.  I can’t believe this_.  Lister was sitting on a bench outside the bar with his head in his hands, moaning softly and wondering if there was any chance, any chance at all, that the ground would obligingly swallow him up.  “Here,” Rimmer sat down next to him and forced a tall glass of cold water into his hand, “Drink this.”  Lister didn’t have the heart to argue.  He sipped meekly.  Petersen had tactfully gone back inside. 

“Do you make a habit of this type of behaviour?” Rimmer asked disapprovingly.  Lister swallowed his mouthful of water with a wince and glared at him, “Not really.  But someone upset me.”

“Who?” Rimmer tensed angrily.

“You, you stupid smegger,” Lister said crossly, taking another sip of his water.

“Oh,” Rimmer relaxed a little, “I see.  I’m sorry.  That wasn’t my intention.”

“Why are you here?” Lister asked tentatively.

“I told you why.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“I’m angry that you put yourself in danger this way.”

“I wasn’t in danger.  I could handle that guy.”

“Poppycock.  You can barely stand up.”

“ _You_ said you were going to stay away from me.”

“You’re the one who called me.”

“I didn’t even expect you to answer the damn phone!  It was past ten o’clock when I rang.  I was just going to vent on your answering machine.  Don’t you have a home to go to?”

“Not really.  I’ve only been here on Saturn as part of a business trip.  I’ve been staying at the Ritz.”

“So why aren’t you there?”

“Doing what?” 

Lister felt a stirring of pity.  Money really didn’t buy happiness.  “I don’t know.  Something other than babysitting a drunk student?”

“If I hadn’t shown up god-knows what would be happening to you right now.”

“That’s not your problem.  In fact, _I_ am not your problem.  So what is this?” Lister demanded.

“Listen,” Rimmer looked down at his hands, “What you said on the phone...You were right, I haven’t been fair to you.  I think maybe we need to get a few things clear.”

“That would be nice,” Lister said sulkily. 

“When we met,” Rimmer said, “You told me you weren’t gay.  Now, given what you said to me on the phone tonight,” Lister averted his gaze, embarrassed, “...and what I found when I turned up here, I’m going to go ahead and guess that wasn’t quite the truth.  At least not the whole truth.”  Rimmer looked at him hard.  Lister blushed slightly, “Yeah.  Okay, fair enough.  But what about you?  You said the same thing to me over lunch.”

“Yes, I did.  And that was true.  But it wasn’t the whole truth either.”

“That’s your idea of getting things clear?”

“My life is complicated.  I’ve told you before, I don’t do relationships.  Not the way most people do.”

“Do you do sex?” Lister asked frankly.

“Yes.”

“Do you do sex with guys?”

“Yes.”

Lister closed his eyes, stared down into the dark abyss of fear and hope within him and leapt.  “Do you want to have sex with me?”  He opened his eyes and Rimmer stared into them with a look that both chilled his heart and sent heat racing to every extremity in his body.  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said darkly.  

 _Oh my...so this is what swooning feels like,_ Lister’s subconscious mused.  “Is that what _you_ want?” Rimmer asked him seriously.  _Yes!  Yes, yes, yes!_   Lister’s libido was screaming, but out loud he found himself saying, “I don’t know.”  Rimmer raised an eyebrow.  “You’re...amazing,” Lister said weakly, “Just being around you does stuff to me, makes me feel things I’ve never felt before but....” he shook his head, “All this stalker-type crap – tracking down where I live, where I work, tracing my phone – it scares me, man.  You’re so overpowering, _overwhelming_.  It frightens me a bit.”

“I don’t want to frighten you,” Rimmer told him softly, “But you have to understand.  I’m not like other people, Dave.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Lister muttered

Rimmer stood up and started to pace, running his fingers through his hair.  Lister gazed at him dreamily and wished those fingers were his.  “This is insane,” Rimmer said, frustrated, “I shouldn’t even be here right now.  I’m meant to be at a conference on Mimas Test Base tomorrow afternoon.  I was meant to be there today,” he looked at his watch, “Yesterday.  Whatever.”

“So why aren’t you?” Lister asked, only half paying attention.  He was watching Rimmer’s butt as he strode back and forth.

“Because I didn’t want to leave Saturn.”

“Because?”

“Because you’re here,” Rimmer rounded on him, “And I can’t get you out of my damn head.  I’ve spent every moment since the last time we saw each other playing it over in my mind, trying to convince myself to walk away.  To leave you alone.  But I can’t do it.  And when you called me tonight, when I heard your voice, that was the last straw.”

            He bent down in front of Lister and cupped his face in his hands, “I know it’s wrong.  I know I’d be going to hell for this if I wasn’t already dead, but I can’t help it.  I need to find out.  I need to see if there’s at least a chance...”  Lister gazed up at him, both awed and disturbed all at once.  “A chance for what?”

“Do you want me, David?”  Lister stared into his eyes and knew unequivocally, despite all his fears and reservations, that he’d risk anything for one night with those eyes looking into his.  “Yes,” he whispered.

“How badly?”

“So badly,” he whispered.

“Tell me.”

“So badly it hurts to even think about it.”

“This wouldn’t be a relationship, David.  Not the way you understand it.  Can you handle that?”

“I think so.”

“Are you ready to accept the fact that sex with me, even just sex, comes with certain conditions?  That it comes at a price that might be too high for you?”

“I don’t understand.  I just...want to be with you.”

“I want you too.  God forgive me, I should walk out of here right now.  I shouldn’t even be considering what I’m about to drag you into but I can’t do it.  I want you too much.”

Lister felt dazed and light-headed, as if this was all some incredible dream and any second he’d wake up.  If he didn’t still smell slightly of vomit, this would almost have been everything he’d imagined, everything he’d fantasised about but...  “Why do you keep saying that?” Lister asked, confused, “Why do you keep saying this is so wrong?  Are you married or something?”

“No,” Rimmer laughed humourlessly.

“So what’s the problem?” Lister demanded, “Why shouldn’t you be doing this?”

“Because I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you,” Rimmer said frankly, “In ways you can’t even imagine yet.  I’m going to turn your life inside out and upside down and maybe destroy everything.  And most of all I’m afraid that once I’m done with you, that look I can see right now in those big brown eyes is going to be gone forever.”

“I’m a big boy,” Lister said hotly, “Whatever happens I can deal with it.”

“You say that now.  You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“So _tell_ me.”

“No.  Not tonight.  Not like this.” 

“I don’t care,” Lister found himself saying, “I’ll do anything.  Whatever it takes.”

“Oh, David,” Rimmer pressed his forehead against his, “Don’t say that.  Not yet.  Don’t make me promises you can’t keep.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

           


	9. Chapter 9

            Lister awoke late the next morning, with a brain full of cotton wool.  He moaned softly and someone stroked his forehead.  “Wake up.  Drink some water.”  Snapshots of the previous night flashed through his head and his eyes flew open.  He was in a room he didn’t recognize.  Arnold Rimmer was standing by the large high-rise window, looking out at the grey morning enveloping Saturn Centre.  He was already immaculately dressed.  “Where am I?” Lister asked, trying not to sound too alarmed.  Rimmer regarded him with amusement.  “You’re in my hotel suite.  How are you feeling?”

“A bit weird.  But okay.”

“Drink some more water,” Rimmer gestured to a cold glass on the nightstand, frosted with condensation.  “It’s probably a good thing you threw up most of what you put away last night or I’d be taking you into Saturn General for an IV drip this morning.”

“Oh god,” Lister squeezed his eyes shut as the memory came crashing back.  Of all the ways he’d ever imagined of waking up in Arnold Rimmer’s bed, this was not one of them.

 “What happened last night?  How did we get here?”

“Well, you crashed out on a bench outside the bar.  I made an executive decision that your drunken friend was in no condition to see you home safely so I had Taylor bring us both back here.”

“Did we...  ?” Lister trailed off shyly.  Rimmer rolled his eyes,

“ _No_ , David.  You were semi-conscious and had vomit on you.  It wasn’t conducive to the mood.  I made you have a cold shower, lots of water, then put you in one of my shirts to go to sleep.”  Lister tried to peer casually under the duvet.  “The underpants are still all yours,” Rimmer reassured him dryly.  “I didn’t take advantage of you.”

“Just checking,” Lister replied primly.

“Have a shower and get yourself dressed,” Rimmer told him, “I’m going to order room service.”

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty-five.”

“What?!” Lister scrabbled out from under the duvet, “Shit, I’m late for work!”

“Relax.  I already phoned you in sick.”

“Oh,” Lister sank down again, “Ok.”

“There’s clothes for you on the chair next to the bed,” Rimmer added.

“These aren’t mine,” Lister picked them up gingerly.

“They are now.”

“Where’s all my stuff?”

“In the hotel laundry having the puke scrubbed out,” Rimmer replied curtly.  Lister winced.  He looked at the price tags on the short-sleeved shirt and jeans next to him and winced again.  Rimmer saw his expression, “Don’t make a fuss.”

“You know, I already have a bike at home that belongs to you,” Lister said coolly.

“Oh, we’re back to this, are we?”

“Yes, we are as a matter of fact.”

“Look, it’s my money.  If I want to spend it on you, that’s up to me.”

“And it doesn’t matter to you that your extreme generosity makes me feel,” Lister held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, “About this big?”

“You and your damn pride.”

“Hey, when you don’t have much, your pride is important,” Lister told him hotly, “Besides, everyone at college already thinks I’m a part-time man-whore.  What are they going to think when I come swanning in wearing designer clothes?”

“They’ll think you look sexy in them.  Just like me.”

“I’m not a ken doll!”

“I’m done arguing about this,” Rimmer told him, “Your clothes aren’t ready yet and people will talk a lot more if I drop you off at home in your underpants.  Now get up and get dressed.”

Lister drew himself up, “You’re a bossy SOB, you know that?”

“David,” Rimmer sighed, “Trust me, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

           

Lister had never seen a shower so big, or with so many functions.  He took the opportunity to have a good play.  Once he was dry and dressed, he joined Rimmer in the main suite.  Two huge white semi-circular sofas took up one area, one facing the view outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the other facing a large flat screen tv mounted on the opposite wall.  There was a separate dining area with a table and six chairs, where Rimmer was waiting for him, pouring out orange juice.  “Wow,” Lister said looking round, “I’ve never seen a place like this outside the movies.”

“Come and have your breakfast,” Rimmer beckoned him.

Lister picked up a slice of toast and poked at something resting on a bowl of ice, “What’s this? A big lemon?”

“It’s a grapefruit,” Rimmer rolled his eyes, “It’s good for you.  And let’s face it, after last night you could do with a detox.”  Lister took a spoonful and pulled a face.  “Put some sugar on it if you must,” Rimmer added, exasperated.  Lister cheerfully picked up the sugar shaker and got busy, “Is there a plan for the day, Sir?” he asked cheekily.

“Taylor will drive you home after breakfast,” Rimmer said, “I have some things to do.”

“Oh.  Okay,” Lister tried not to sound too crestfallen.  After last night he’d been expecting...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.  But sex had featured heavily. 

“You sound disappointed,” Rimmer remarked, smiling at him.  Lister shrugged, trying not to appear too needy.  “Just surprised, that’s all.  I would have figured the CEO can take a day off when he feels like it.”

“I’m not working,” Rimmer said, “I’ll be organising some things for tonight.  I’ll be over to pick you up at seven.”

“What if I have plans?” Lister replied innocently.

“Then far be it from me to interfere,” Rimmer replied smoothly.

“I don’t have plans,” Lister said quickly.

“Good.  Then I’ll see you at seven.”

“What should I wear?”

“Whatever you like.”

“I don’t have any fancy clothes, that’s all.”  Rimmer gave him a look over the top of his coffee cup,

“With any luck,” he said meaningfully, “You won’t need them.”

_Woo_ - _hoo!_   Lister’s libido whooped. 

He toyed shyly with his grapefruit spoon, “Do we have to wait for tonight?” he asked softly.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to speak to my lawyers first.”

“What?!  You need a lawyer to have sex?”

“All will become clear,” Rimmer said enigmatically, “And don’t tempt me, please.  It was hard enough lying on the sofa all night knowing that you were sprawled out across my bed just a few feet away.”

“You slept on the sofa?”

“I always sleep alone.  Although,” Rimmer’s expression softened unexpectedly, “I must admit, it was nice knowing that you were here.” 

He cast an eye over Lister’s empty plate, “Have you finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” Lister said, feeling like a small child at a party.

“Then I’ll contact Taylor and tell him to expect you in the lobby shortly.”

“Tell him to bring a friend,” Lister replied crisply, annoyed and slightly hurt at feeling first rejected and then dismissed.  “Then one of them can drive that bike away at the same time.”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not keeping it.”

“We’ll discuss it tonight.”

“There’s other stuff I wanted to do tonight,” Lister said pointedly.

“You might still change your mind.”

“About the bike or the sex?”

“Either.”

“Don’t count on it, man.”

“Oh, the things I’d like to do to that smart mouth of yours,” Rimmer growled.  Lister was taken aback by the threat, then immediately, achingly horny.  “Why don’t you show me?” he offered seductively, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, his cock already keen for action.  Rimmer eyed him, “You filthy little tease.”

“C’mon Rimsy, screw the suits.  Let’s throw caution to the wind.”

            Rimmer stood up and swept the table bare with one swing of his arm.  Plates and glasses smashed to the ground, ice cubes skidded across the floorboards.  Lister gasped - alarmed, shocked, excited – and Rimmer swept him up in his arms, shoving him down across the table on his back and kissing him ravenously.  His hard-light body felt so powerful, so immovable, so strong.  Lister moaned against his mouth, pinned, helpless and loving it, his cock getting harder by the second.  This was it, the moment he’d been waiting for, _longing_ for....

            Rimmer pulled back, leaving him breathless and panting on the table.  “Hey,” he protested, somewhat pathetically. 

“You,” Rimmer told him sternly, “Are a very naughty boy.”

“Oh, now who’s the tease?” Lister complained.

“You started it.  Now hop it, Squire.  Before the urge to do something that will _really_ make you moan becomes overwhelming.”

“Sounds good to me,”

“You’ll have plenty of time to decide that tonight.  And much as I would like to spend the whole of today fucking you senseless in a variety of interesting ways, there are some things I have to sort out first.”  He marched across the room and scooped up a phone, “Taylor, Mister Lister is ready to leave now.”

“This is _so_ unfair,” Lister glowered at him, climbing off the table with as much dignity as he could muster in the circumstances, “You can’t just whip me up like that, then be all ‘laters, baby’ and expect me to wait until tonight.”

“I have never said ‘laters’ in my life.  And trust me, it’s better this way.”

“For who?”

“Both of us.  You’ll understand when the time comes.”

            Lister fumed, and stomped to the door of the suite.  “Fine.  I’ll see you then.  But you’d better not be late picking me up, Arnold Rimmer.  The waiting’s already killing me.”

“Me too,” Rimmer said, joining him at the door.  He put his arms around his waist and kissed him again, pulling him close and making him yearn for more, more of this, more touching, more _everything_.  Then pulled away once more and looked down into his face with a mocking smile, “Laters, baby,” he murmured huskily.

           


	10. Chapter 10

            Gradually, Lister began to cool off on the drive back to college.  “Don’t you ever get time off, Taylor?” he asked the driver curiously.  The partition in the limo was down today and Lister was glad.  He’d have felt strangely alone and isolated by himself in the back otherwise.

“Yes, sir,” he replied pleasantly, “But Mr Rimmer’s a little busy at the present time.  I’ll take some leave once things have quietened down again.”

“Don’t you mind him calling you up in the middle of the night to drive him round?”

“That’s my job, sir.  And to be honest I quite enjoy it.  Never know what’s going to happen next with Mr Rimmer.”

“Do you know where he’s taking me tonight?”

“I have a fair idea.”

“Share.”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.  Big Man’s orders.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

            As they reached the gates of the college, Lister bit his lip.  “Can you drop me off here?”

“It’s no trouble to take you to your dorm, Sir.”

“Thank you, but I think I’d rather walk.  And you don’t have to call me, Sir.”

“Whatever you say, Mister Lister.”  The limo slowed to a halt.

“Thank you,” Lister scrambled out before Taylor could get out and open the door for him.  He’d never get used to getting in and out of this damn car.  “You’re very welcome,” Taylor smiled reassuringly, “I’ll see you again at seven.”

“Bye,” Lister said weakly.

            As he walked across the campus back to his room, he saw heads turning as he passed and decided he’d done the right thing leaving the limo at the gate.  People had been talking.  When he saw Kochanski on the steps outside the science block with a crowd of her friends, he almost turned back and walked the other way.  He stared at her from afar for a moment.  She was so pretty, so kind, so smart.  If things were different she might turn and see him now, smile that special smile of hers and run over.  He’d wrap her in a bear hug and kiss that smile away for a little while.  How nice, how simple, that life would be.  No secrets, no stares, no lawyers to be consulted before they went to bed with each other.  Just two young happy kids in love.  He envied them for a second, that Lister and Kochanski.  Then he thought of the kisses that morning, the face leaning over him as he lay across the dining table, the hazel eyes that promised so much and he shivered again from head to foot.  Some things were worth the complications.

           “Dave!” Kriss had seen him.  He smiled weakly as she scurried towards him.  “What the hell is going on?” she asked, her eyes wide, “Everyone’s talking about you!”  She glanced over him, “Nice jeans, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“According to half the campus you’re a gay-for-pay gigolo, paying your tuition fees by selling your body to the rich and famous.  And the other half are saying that Arnold Rimmer turned up in a bar in town last night and tried to kill Sam Murray for trying to talk to you, but the police are hushing it up because he’s so rich.  What have you been up to?”

“You know me,” Lister joked, “Exotic man of mystery.”

“Spill it.”

“I’m not a hooker.  Arnold Rimmer didn’t try to kill Sam Murray, he just threw him into a table and chairs.  And if you must know, Sam Murray wasn’t _just_ trying to talk to me – he’d been paying too much attention to the rumours round this place and thought he might get lucky.”

“He tried it on with you?”

“Tried extremely hard,” Lister said curtly.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“But what was Rimmer doing there?”  Lister stalled but decided to go for broke.  It wasn’t like the rumours could get any crazier.  “You were right about him.”  Kristine’s jaw dropped.

“Really?” she stage-whispered.

“Yes,” Lister whispered back, teasing her, “He’s taking me on a date tonight.”

“And,” she floundered, “You’re...okay with it?”

“I could do worse,” he remarked, “Sam Murray for instance.”

“I didn’t know you...” she gestured incoherently.

“Neither did I,” Lister said, “This is all a bit new for me.”

“Dave,” she said disapprovingly, “It’s not just the money, is it?  Because that would be _very_ tacky of you.” 

“It would be more than tacky,” Lister tried to look insulted but couldn’t help but laugh at her prim expression, “And no, it isn’t.”

“Well,” she looked towards the sky and shaded her blue eyes against the distant sun, “I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

“Really?”

“You’re a cute fella.  And I rather thought you liked me.”

“I did,” he corrected himself, “I _do_.  But this just kind of...happened.”

“Okay,” she looked at him sideways, “But if your date is a complete disaster then let me know, huh?”

“You’ll be the _first_ to know,” he assured her with a wink.  She kissed his cheek and walked back to her friends.  _Okay_ , he thought.  _That wasn’t so bad.  Now comes the really hard part.  The waiting._

When he approached his building, he forced himself to take a deep breath as he laid eyes on the Ducati again.  It shone in the sunlight.  He walked over and, because nobody was around to see, ran an appreciative hand over it.  It _was_ beautiful.  He wondered how it would feel to climb on, feel it growl to life underneath him and take it for a spin, see what it could do.  Feel the wind on his face, the power at his fingertips.  Maybe he could keep it.  Maybe he could accept it, as a gift and not as a bribe.  It went against all his instincts but smeg, he _wanted_ it.  “You filthy tease,” he told it sadly and made himself go inside.

The first thing he did on getting back to the flat was to check on Petersen.  He knocked tentatively on the bedroom door and heard a grunt.  Gingerly, he pushed the door open and peered through.  It was dark in the room and it smelt appalling.  There was, just possibly, a figure under the bedclothes.  “Olaf?  I’m back.”

“You okay?” Petersen mumbled.

“Yeah.  You?”

“Been better.  Did you screw him?”

“Not yet.”

“Good boy.  Make him wait.”

“But I probably will tonight.”

“Go get him, champ.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nope.  I’m all good.”

“Okay then.  Thanks for everything, man.”

“Anytime.”  Petersen disappeared back under the blankets and Lister crept out and went back to his own room.

            He made a paltry attempt at studying but it was hopeless.  He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus on anything.  All he could think about was the night ahead.  He couldn’t understand why Rimmer was being so coy and secretive.  All this business with lawyers, what he’d said last night about there being ‘conditions’ and how it might be too much for Lister...What did all of it mean?  Okay, the guy was important and had substantial interests to protect, but what harm could a bit of sex do?  Why did he need legal advice?

            Lister tried not to think about that side of things.  If he had to sign a few legal documents saying he wouldn’t blackmail anyone or divulge any corporate secrets it was a hassle, but more than worth it.  He’d sign away his soul for a chance to finish what they’d started on the breakfast table this morning.  But beneath the excitement there were nerves too.  He’d never done this before.  What if he was crap?  What if it hurt?  What if the whole evening was a total disaster and Rimmer never wanted to see him again?

            He went through his admittedly small wardrobe three times and decided to keep on his new jeans and pair them with a black shirt he normally only wore for interviews.  It was a little faded, but unlike most of his clothes not actually torn or dirty.

            He paced his room.  He took a shower.  He made a cup of tea which he didn’t drink.  He looked at a magazine.  He thought about wanking and decided not to. He took another shower instead.

And waited for a night which would, he knew, change everything.


	11. Chapter 11

            It was 6.59 precisely when Lister heard the sound of tyres on gravel outside his window.  He took a deep breath, picked up his leather jacket and opened his bedroom door.  Petersen, who had finally managed the epic journey from his bed to the sofa at some point during the afternoon, was huddled in front of the telly with a gargantuan mug of coffee.  “He’s here,” Lister said.  He tried to sound casual but his voice betrayed him.  He was nervous and it showed.  Petersen looked him over, “Looking good, Davey.  Knock him dead.”

“Bit late for that.”

“Oh, yeah.  I was forgetting.  Well, enjoy yourself.  I won’t expect you home tonight.  And I know it’s a cliché, but just remember...”  the doorbell rang and Lister visibly jumped.  Petersen regarded him with concern.  “Just remember,” he continued firmly, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I know, man.”  Lister smiled weakly and answered the door.  Taylor greeted him cordially, “Good evening, Mister Lister.”

“Hello, Taylor.  Right on time, as always.”

“Mister Rimmer doesn’t like to be late.”

“I bet he doesn’t,” Lister remarked dryly.  He looked back over his shoulder, “See ya, Olaf.”

“Be safe, my man.  And you tell him what I said last night still stands.”

“Will do.”

            Feeling a little lighter in spirit, Lister hopped down the steps.  Taylor opened the back door of the limo for him and he swung himself in.  The car smelt of wealth and aftershave.  Rimmer was waiting for him in the snug cocoon of cream leather and as soon as he laid eyes on him, all of Lister’s anxieties and misgivings vanished.  Rimmer was also wearing a black shirt and blue jeans.  His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing smooth pale skin and firm muscles.  His hair was gelled down neatly.  Lister wanted to crawl right into his lap.  “Hello there,” Rimmer purred, looking him over with a predatory stare.  “Hello,” Lister smiled, “This is embarrassing.  We wore the same thing.”

“It’s okay,” Rimmer remarked, “Nobody else will know.  Although if it would make you happy, then please feel free to take something off.”

“I will if you will,” Lister challenged, eyeing him.  Rimmer smiled and said nothing.

            The car rolled away.  The partition was back up and they were all alone.  “You look gorgeous,” Rimmer told him softly.

“What?  In this old thing?” Lister waved dismissively, with a coquettish smile.

“In fact, you look positively _edible_ ,” Rimmer continued, not taking his eyes off him.

“So do you,” Lister replied, sliding one hand along the seat to touch Rimmer’s fingers.  Taking the bait, Rimmer took his hand and raised it to his lips.  Lister thought he was going to kiss it, but instead he slipped each fingertip into his mouth one by one and sucked it gently.  The sensation went right to Lister’s cock.  “Mmm...” Rimmer murmured, “You certainly _taste_ edible.” 

“You should try the rest of me,” Lister managed to say, his heart hammering.

“Oh, I will,” Rimmer promised, with a look that made his stomach twist.  Lister decided decorum could go hang and slid closer, kneeling up on the seat and swiftly straddling Rimmer’s lap.  “David,” Rimmer said reprovingly, but he looked amused, “You really should be wearing a seatbelt.”

“I have faith in Taylor’s driving ability.  Kiss me.”

“My, my,” Rimmer teased, running his hands down his back possessively, “Aren’t we demanding all of a sudden?”

“Hey you’re the one who got me all worked up.  _Again_.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started yet,” Rimmer assured him in a whisper.  He reached up and wound Lister’s locks around one hand, the balance of power between them shifting once again as he used them to pull him down firmly into a kiss and hold him there. 

The feel of those strong lips against his was almost too much for Lister.  He’d been horny and hyped-up all day and wasn’t sure how much more he could take.  He felt Rimmer’s arms slide around his hips, lifting him and then he was stretched out across the back seat; Rimmer on top of him and kissing him like he wanted to devour him and god his cock felt like it was going to explode.  “Can we fuck now?” he managed to gasp between kisses, “ _Please?_ ”

“Not yet, baby,” Rimmer whispered back, cradling his head to hold him in place as he kissed him again and again.  “But soon, very soon.”  He moaned and lost himself in the kisses, the hard cool hands stroking him, bringing him ever closer but not close enough.

            He wasn’t aware the car had stopped until Rimmer suddenly sat up, smoothed his hair and straightened his shirt – and Taylor opened the car door right next to his head.  Lister blinked at him upside-down and grinned sheepishly.  “Hi,” he said embarrassed.

“Hello, Mister Lister,” Taylor seemed amused but utterly unfazed, “We’re here now.”

Lister sat up, trying to compose himself and fight down the scarlet blush creeping up from his neck.  “Very good, Taylor,” Rimmer didn’t seem ashamed at all, “I’ll be in contact.”

“Yes, Sir.”       

            Lister climbed out of the car and looked around himself.  All around there was the noise of engines and people, figures in jumpsuits running back and forth and flashing lights in the twilight.  Huge vessels stood in every direction, some moving, some at a standstill.  “The shuttle-port?” he asked blankly.  This wasn’t the setting he’d envisioned for a romantic tryst.  Taylor handed Rimmer a walkie-talkie and he grabbed his hand, marching him in a business-like fashion across the airfield.  “Where are we going?” Lister asked.  Rimmer ignored him. 

“Ground control,” he barked into the radio, “This is Alpha Romeo.  Please clear field three ready for take-off.  Over.”

“What’s going on?” Lister demanded, wondering suddenly if he was being kidnapped and trying to decide how much he minded.  “I’m taking you back to my place,” Rimmer told him nonchalantly.  “Where exactly is your place?” Lister asked him, wide-eyed.  “Jupiter,” Rimmer said.

“Jupiter?  We’re taking off for Jupiter, just like that?”

“Sure.  Why not?”

“I have to be back at college on Monday!”

“Relax, I’ll make sure you’re back.  It’s not a long flight.”

            Up ahead of them, Lister saw a small red Air-Space Jet with the Rimmer logo emblazoned down one side.  It was about the size of a large helicopter.  “That’ll be yours then,” Lister said faintly.  _I’m on a date with a guy who wants to take me to Jupiter on his private jet.  Holy smeg._   “Hop in,” Rimmer looked at his dumbfounded expression and grinned widely.  The expression suited him.  “You can fly this thing?” Lister asked, stunned.  “Indeed I can.”  Lister clambered into the passenger seat and Rimmer bent over him and helped him into the safety harness.  He seemed to take pleasure in the process, strapping Lister into the seat a little more snugly than seemed necessary.  Lister caught his breath slightly.  “Comfy?” Rimmer asked teasingly.

“It’s a little tight.”

“Don’t want you getting away, do I?” Rimmer countered with a twinkle in his eye.  He leaned in and kissed Lister’s mouth and immediately it was hot and intense, like molten lava flowing between them.  Lister whimpered with need.  Smeg it all, he’d never met anyone else who could make his body react this way, who could get him so raring and ready to go so easily.  Rimmer bit his bottom lip gently.  “Patience, Listy,” he murmured, “Not long now.”

            Rimmer climbed in beside him and Lister watched intrigued as he strapped himself in and started running the pre-flight checks.  He looked so calm, so capable.  Lister thought back to what he’d said the day they first met, about being a failure, and just couldn’t believe it.  It was so at odds with everything he saw, everything he knew about the man.  “Ground control, this is Alpha Romeo.  We are ready for take-off.  Repeat, ready for take-off.”  The radio crackled back,

“All clear, Alpha Romeo.  Take-off is a go-go.  Have a good flight, Mister Rimmer, Sir.”

“You ready?” Rimmer turned to him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Lister replied, dazed.

“Nervous?”

“No,” Lister said, “I trust you.”  There was a flicker of something in Rimmer’s eyes that Lister couldn’t interpret.  “That’s good,” he said, “Although you might come to regret it.”

            He eased the joystick forward, little by little and the craft rumbled forward, picking up speed.  The turbos kicked in and Lister was thrust back into his seat as the ship rocketed forward and threw itself into outer space.


	12. Chapter 12

 

Lister peered out of the jet window, awestruck, as the stars soared past.  He’d only travelled interstellar once before – when he’d left Earth for Saturn – and that had been a very different experience.  Crammed into a lumbering great coach of a vessel, with hardly any windows and seats so cramped you could barely breathe without touching the person beside you.  It was like flying economy to Benidorm on an 18-30’s package.  Here in Arnold Rimmer’s jet, in his huge leather seat, the enormous wraparound viewscreen made it feel like there was nothing between you and the jewelled spread of infinity.  “You okay there?” Rimmer asked.

“It’s incredible,” Lister replied honestly, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride.  We’ll be there in just over twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?  Is that all?”

“When this ship flies, David, she _flies_.”

            Jupiter loomed before them, its red glow filling the viewscreen.  Rimmer held the craft steady as they descended towards the surface.  A voice crackled across the radio, “This is ground control.  Please state your clearance code.”

“This is Alpha Romeo 1841 requesting clearance.  Over.”  There was a short pause, Lister assumed they were verifying the code, before they heard back.  “Alpha Romeo, you have planet clearance.  Will you be touching down at base or hub?  Over.”

“Straight to the hub, ground control.  No further clearance requested.  Over and out.”

“What’s the hub?” Lister asked curiously.

“My place.  Rimmer Central.”

            The Rimmer building (Jupiter) was one of the tallest towers in the solar system.  Lister had never seen it before and was secretly quite excited.  It was the headquarters of Rimmer Inc, containing offices, labs and research centres as well as a huge entertainment complex for staff and civilians.  “You actually live there?” Lister asked.

“I exist there,” Rimmer replied, somewhat stiffly.

“Sorry.  But you know what I mean.”

“The top three floors of the building contain my penthouse.  I’m not there very often, but I suppose it’s home.  At least, it’s where I go when I’m not working.”

            Lister peered out of the window as they touched down, watching the lights of the city below with fascination.  When they bumped down gently on the landing strip at the top of the building, the city beneath them still seemed to be miles away.  Rimmer got out first and came round to help Lister out of his harness.  As he jumped down to the tarmac, the strength of the wind hit him and he gasped.  It was like standing on top of a mountain. 

He gazed out across the view before him, mile after mile, the multiple moons glimmering in the sky above them looking almost close enough to touch.  Suddenly, Lister understood Arnold Rimmer a little better.  No wonder the guy was such an arrogant git.  When you lived like this - above everyone else, apart from everyone else – when you could look out and see all of life and creation spread before you, the universe at your fingertips, it was like being a god.  And Lister was ready to worship.  Rimmer put his arms around him, steadying him against the strong wind, “Let’s get inside.”

            There was an elevator at one end of the roof.  They stepped in and sank down into the heart of Rimmer’s empire.  Lister was silent.  Now they were here, the nerves were back, multiplied tenfold.  Maybe it was this place, the scale of it and everything it represented, but suddenly Lister was afraid.  Rimmer, as if sensing his sudden apprehension, took his hand.  When the lift doors opened, he led him gently out into his chambers.

            The apartment was exquisite.  There was no other word for it.  Everything was beautiful, handmade and very expensive.  Along one wall there were windows, floor to ceiling.  The view was breathtaking, but somehow less intimidating than it had been out on the roof.  The lights were low, making the most of the rainbow of colour shining up from the city.  Lister stood by the window, awed and scared to touch anything.  “Take off your jacket,” Rimmer said.  Lister complied without a word.  Rimmer took it from him and threw it down on one of the large suede sofas.  He took Lister in his arms and looked down into his face.  His body felt like supple marble wrapped in soft velvet.  _This is how it would feel,_ Lister thought dreamily, _if Michaelangelo’s David stepped off his pedestal and wrapped you in his arms._

“What do you think?” Rimmer asked.  Lister shook his head,

“It’s just like you, man.”

“How so?” Rimmer asked.

“Incredible.  Gorgeous.  Awe-inspiring.  But at the same time frightening and slightly unreal.”

“Are you frightened of me?” Rimmer asked him seriously, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Lister admitted, “A little.”

“I wonder how you’ll feel,” Rimmer mused, staring down at him, “After tonight.”

            Rimmer kissed him again, slowly this time, giving Lister the option to pull back if he wanted.  But he couldn’t have done even if he _had_ wanted.  Arnold Rimmer was a force of nature and he’d sucked Lister in like a tornado; and now he was lost, spinning round and round in a vortex of longing and desire and there was only one way out of it.  When Rimmer finally released him from the kiss, he sighed and didn’t open his eyes.  “Now?” he breathed.

“There’s just one thing we have to do first,” Rimmer told him, “And then you can decide if you still want this.”

            He led Lister to the sofa and sat him down.  He picked up a folder from the coffee table and slid out a sheet of paper which he handed to Lister.  “This is a NDA,” Rimmer told him, “A non-disclosure agreement.  It says that whatever happens in this apartment, tonight or any other time, stays between us.  It also states that you will not reveal any personal information about me to any other party.  That means the press, the internet and – this is important – your friends.  If we do this, you cannot discuss our relationship or any aspects of it with any other person.”

“Okay,” Lister said weakly.

“That’s not as easy as it sounds, Dave.  There may be times you want to talk things over with someone else, ask certain questions, ask for advice.  You won’t be able to do that.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Lister said flatly.  In truth, he was massively relieved.  He’d half-expected this and, compared to some of the other scenario’s he’d imagined, this was nothing.  “There’s also a contract in the folder,” Rimmer told him, “But you have to sign the NDA before I show it to you.”

“A contract?”

“If you’re happy to sign the NDA,” Rimmer said patiently, “I will explain everything to you.  I will answer all your questions.  Then you can decide if you want to sign the contract.  If you don’t, then what happens next is up to you.  If you want to go home at once and never see me again, then that is what will happen.”

“Why would I want that?” Lister asked him, baffled.

            Rimmer took his hand and looked into his face, his expression solemn.  “Do you remember me telling you last night,” he said, “That there were certain conditions attached to this?  That there was a price you’d have to pay?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is where you find out what it is.”

“Something more than the NDA?”

“Yes.” 

Lister gazed into his hazel eyes, felt the touch of his skin on his hand.  He didn’t even have to think about it.  “Do you have a pen?” he asked.

Rimmer, ever organised, tipped one out of the folder and handed it to him, grave-faced.  Lister set the NDA down on the coffee table and signed it with a flourish.  He handed it back to Rimmer.  “Now talk to me,” he said.  Rimmer breathed deeply, as if steeling himself for something,

“It’s easier,” he said, “If I show you.”  He took Lister’s hand and pulled him up off the sofa, “Come with me.”    

            Lister followed him down a hallway, past a series of closed doors, his heart fluttering like a trapped butterfly in his chest.  His throat felt tight.  Were they going to the bedroom now?  Was that where Rimmer was leading him?  Oh, he hoped so.  Despite his anxiety, his body was aching with a need he’d been fighting all day.  Hell, he’d been fighting it ever since he’d met this man.  Now he was ready to surrender, whatever the cost.

            They stopped outside a door set into the very end of the hallway.  Rimmer turned to him.  “Remember,” he said, “If this is too much, then that’s okay.  You don’t have to stay here, or do anything you don’t want.  If you ask me to take you home then I will do it and that will be the end of it.”  Lister felt a surge of real dread.  What could possibly be waiting on the other side of this door that would make Rimmer think he’d run now?  How bad could it be?

            Rimmer unlocked the door and pushed it open, reaching in to flick a light switch.  Lister stepped into the room and stopped in his tracks.

“Oh,” he said.

           

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

            The room was very large.  The walls were red.  The floor was polished stone.  A huge ornate bed, covered with a red silk sheet and pillows stood at one end.  There was no duvet, but there were leather cuffs dangling from each of the four posts.  In fact, there seemed to be restraints of all sorts everywhere he looked.  Various strange items were dotted throughout, a metal frame, a padded bench - and something that looked like a pair of stocks.  There were leather straps and chains hanging from an assortment of sturdy hooks in the ceiling.  Against one wall was a large cabinet, lined with many drawers, like you’d find containing specimens in a museum.  A rack against the far wall, contained a selection of whips, canes, riding crops and some other things Lister didn’t recognise.  In one corner, there was a cage, just large enough to hold an adult on their hands and knees.

 

This wasn’t the bedroom.  It was the dungeon.

 

Lister wondered vaguely if he was going to faint.  He’d worked himself up to such a pitch before even entering the room – he was a mess of fear, insecurity, awe and arousal and now...this.  “What do you think?” Rimmer asked quietly.  Lister didn’t know what to say.  What was an appropriate response to this?  He wasn’t naïve.  He was aware that there were people out there who got their kicks this way, in the same way he knew that there were people who thought chocolate was sickly and the Beatles weren’t actually all that great – but like those things, he didn’t _understand_ it. 

He walked a few paces into the room and looked curiously at the rack of whips.  “Dave?” Rimmer pressed anxiously.

“I suppose the big question,” Lister said cautiously, focusing on the rack in front of him, not trusting himself to look at Rimmer, “Is do you want me to do this to you, or do you want to do it to me?”

“I want to do it to you,” Rimmer said frankly, “Very badly.”

 _Oh holy smeg._ “And this is the only way you can enjoy having sex?”

“It would be more accurate to say this is the only way I’m _interested_ in having sex.”

“You know,” Lister remarked, “when you said you were afraid of hurting me, I didn’t think you meant it this literally.”  He heard Rimmer laugh softly behind him but Lister didn’t feel like laughing.  Unless it was a full-blown case of hysterics.

“I’m very good at this, Dave,” Rimmer said “If I hurt you it will be because I mean to.  And because you will enjoy it.”

“Do you _want_ to hurt me?”

“Yes.  But only enough to make you feel good.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will, if I demonstrate.  But you’ll have to trust me.”

 _Trust_ _me_.  Lister wrestled with this.  How could he trust someone who wanted to hurt him?  Who wanted to chain him up and whip him?  How could he trust anyone who had a room like this in their _home_ , for smeg’s sake? 

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” Rimmer asked him openly.  Lister shrugged vaguely, not wanting to appear unworldly, “Sort of.”  An old girlfriend had once chained him to the bed with a pair of pink furry handcuffs brought back from a particularly rowdy hen party and sucked him off, but this – he was well aware – was not even remotely the same thing.  There was nothing pink and furry in this room.  There was black leather and there was red rubber.  There was polished wood and stainless steel and stone.  In this room, the chains wouldn’t snap if you pulled hard enough.  This room wasn’t about fun.  It wasn’t about playing at it.  This room was deadly serious.

If he hadn’t spent the day in such a heightened state of erotic suspense, if he hadn’t been so primed and aroused before he even walked into this place, if it had been anyone other than Arnold Rimmer proposing this insanity, he would have walked out and not looked back.  Instead he turned to face Rimmer, “What exactly do you want from me?” 

Rimmer walked over and the sight of him, in this room, stalking towards him like a panther made Lister tremble slightly.  “I want you,” he said slowly and clearly, “To submit to me.  To allow me complete ownership of your body and soul.  I want you to belong to me.”  It took a great amount of effort on Lister’s part to force himself to stay standing.

“And in return?”

“I will give you anything you want.  I will cater to your every whim.  Most importantly I will, quite simply, take you to the utmost limits of what you’re capable of feeling.  In my hands, you will experience things that right now you can’t even imagine.”

“You don’t know what I can imagine,” Lister breathed, but it was a petty response.  He never could have imagined this. 

“These are the conditions, David.” Rimmer told him, “We can be together.  But you won’t be my boyfriend.  You won’t be my lover.  You won’t be my equal.  You’ll be my sub.  I will look after you, take care of your every need, fuck you and explore every possibility of physical experience with you, but first you have to accept me as your master.”  He reached out and touched his face tenderly, “You have to submit to me.  Utterly.”

            Lister backed away from him, he had to or he was sure he would pass out, and looked around slightly desperately.  He tried to imagine himself in this room, naked and helpless, strapped to one of these devices.  He couldn’t picture it.  He couldn’t visualise himself that way.  But then he remembered Rimmer’s face that morning, leaning over him as he lay across the table in the hotel and suddenly...suddenly maybe he could.  _Go for it!_   His libido was screaming, _Who cares if he’s a sadistic sexual nutjob who wants to do unspeakable things to you? He’s still the most desirable man you’ve ever met, the only guy you’ve ever felt this way about!  Just drop to your knees, tell him to slap on the handcuffs and let’s do this thing!!!_     

A dark shudder ran through him.  This was crazy.  It went against everything he believed in, everything he believed about _himself_ , but if there was one man, anywhere in the universe, who could even make Lister consider this, it was Arnold Rimmer.  His body knew what he wanted, no questions asked, but the tiny part of him that dealt with self-preservation was less convinced.

“What’s in the cabinet?” he asked.  

“Have a look,” Rimmer invited.  Lister approached cautiously and slid one drawer out smoothly.  Laid out on the soft red velvet lining, was a selection of dildos.  He opened another drawer.  Butt plugs.  Another drawer – cock rings.  He opened another and frowned, “I don’t even know what most of these things are!” he protested anxiously.  Rimmer appeared behind him, “Would you like to know?”

“I’m not sure,” Lister replied warily.  He picked up something that looked like a cross between a medical syringe and a cake icer.  “That’s a lubricant applicator,” Rimmer told him gently.  Lister’s libido stirred a little and popped its head up curiously. “Okay,” Lister put it back and gingerly picked up something else that was small and sparkly, “What’s this?  It looks sort of like an earring.”

“It’s an insert,” Rimmer said, “For the tip of the penis.  It can be used for decoration or to prevent ejaculation.”

“Okay,” Lister said again, a little more uneasily, “What about this?”

“That’s a cattle prod.”

This time Lister’s libido squeaked in alarm and went and hid.  He dropped the device and closed the drawer firmly.  “I think,” he said faintly, “I need a drink.”

 

            Back in the main lounge, Rimmer handed him a whisky.  Lister huddled down on one of the sofas and tried to arrange his thoughts.  “Have there been others?” he asked, “Before me?”

“Yes.”

“Lots?”

“A few.”

“How did you find them?”

“Some of them found me.”

“Men or women?”

“Both.”

“And did they all sign NDA’s?”

“Yes.  And they all signed the contract.”

            Oh, yes.  Lister had forgotten about that. “So what exactly is in the contract?  What are the terms?”

“The contract states that you agree to be my submissive for a term of three months.  During that period there will be a set of contractual obligations that you – and I – must abide by.”

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re willing to do and what you’re not.”

“So I can choose?”

“Yes.  To an extent.”

“So if I were to stipulate no kinky shit...?”

“...Then there wouldn’t be much of a contract left to sign,” Rimmer remarked, amused, “But we can set out hard limits and soft limits.”

“What does that mean?”

“Hard limits are the absolute no-go areas.  The things you won’t touch with a ten foot pole.  Soft limits are the things that we can negotiate on.”

“Example?”

“One of the hard limits set out in the contract is that I won’t do anything to permanently harm or mark you in any way.  That means no tattoos, no piercings, no cutting or burning.”

“Isn’t that just common sense?”

“You’d be surprised,” Rimmer said enigmatically.

            Lister took a gulp of his whisky.  “Don’t get drunk,” Rimmer told him, “I need you thinking clearly.”

“That would have been a lot easier twenty minutes ago,” Lister retorted pointedly.

“Soft limits might be something like you’ll accept me using a cane on you but not an actual whip.  Or something more personal, like...” he shrugged, “I don’t know.  Would you be happy for me to come in your mouth?”  Lister choked slightly on his drink.

“What?”

“Well, what have you done with your previous boyfriends?”

“What previous boyfriends?”

“Previous _lovers_ then?” Rimmer rolled his eyes.

“Nothing.  I’ve never done that before.”

“Really?” Rimmer cocked his head to one side, “Never?”

“No!  I’ve never...” Lister stopped, flustered.

            Rimmer narrowed his eyes, “Dave, what are you saying?”

“This is all new to me, okay?” Lister said, “This is a whole new world.”

“You’ve never been with another man.  Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”  Rimmer’s eyes widened.  Lister looked away bashfully.  “I don’t believe this!” Rimmer stood up and started pacing, “Why the hell didn’t you say?”

“I _told_ you I wasn’t gay,” Lister muttered, swirling his drink self-consciously.

“Well, yes, but when you said that, I assumed you meant you weren’t gay in the same way that _I’m_ not gay.  I thought you meant you were playing the field, keeping your options open!  I didn’t think you were a smegging _virgin_!”

“Listen,” Lister said irritated, “I lost my virginity when I was twelve years old round the back of a golf course.  Don’t go thinking I’m sweet and innocent because I’m not, I’ve been around and done plenty.  I’ve just...never got around to this.”

“So what have you done?  Have you ever kissed another guy apart from me?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“One,” Lister admitted.

“One?!  You mean that jerk I pulled off of you in the bar???”

“I kissed him once before,” Lister admitted, “At a party.  I’d had too much to drink and we had a fumble in the corner.”

“That’s the extent of your experience?” Rimmer shook his head, putting his hands over his eyes, “A single drunken fumble at a party and I just showed you my playroom.  What must be going through your head right now?”

“I told you, I’m not a kid.  I can handle it!”

“You,” Rimmer said furiously, “Have no concept of what you’re getting into!  You’re sitting here discussing limits with me and you have no idea what your limits are!  You don’t know what you like, let alone what you can take!”

“But I want to find out!” Lister snapped. 

            They stared at each other.  Lister was shocked by his own outburst.  “I don’t know how I feel about some of this,” he said after a beat, “I don’t know if I can be submissive.  I don’t know if I can surrender the way you want me to, but I _do_ know that I want you.  I want you so much.”

“I should never have brought you here,” Rimmer ran his hands back through his hair, “I knew it was a risk, I knew I was being selfish but I didn’t realise just how much.  You’re not ready for this.” 

Lister watched the curls rippling through those long fingers and every part of him clenched.  “I am,” he said, determined.  “I was ready from the moment you pulled me into your arms to save me from that bike that almost hit me.”  Rimmer groaned, remembering. 

“And you had to go leaning against my chest, quivering like a rabbit, looking up at me with those big brown eyes practically begging me to kiss you.  Do you know how hard it was for me to drive you home and just let you out of the car?  Do you know what was going through my head that whole journey, the things I was imagining doing to you?”

“I think maybe now I have some idea,” Lister ventured tremulously. 

He slipped off his seat and knelt, very deliberately, in front of Rimmer, “Maybe now it’s time you showed me.”

“You are killing me,” Rimmer growled.  “You are _so_ out of your depth here.”

“So teach me what you want.  Teach me how to please you.”

“Christ, David...”

“Please,” Lister said, injecting every inch of desperation he felt into his voice, “Please don’t send me home.  Not now.”

            Rimmer dropped to his knees in front of him and roughly grabbed his wrists, “Look at me.”  Lister did.  Rimmer stared him down, almost angrily, “If I was a better man I’d march you back to Saturn right now and forget I ever met you.  But I’m not.  So instead I’m going to do something now that I’ve never done before and I hope we don’t both end up regretting it.”  Lister gazed at him, rapt as he pulled him sharply to his feet.  “Follow me,” Rimmer dragged him back down the hallway and Lister scurried to keep up, practically tripping over his own feet.  “What are you going to do?” he asked, frightened and exhilarated, “Are you going to whip me?”

“No,” Rimmer snapped, stopping in front of a different door and throwing it open, “I’m taking you to my bedroom, for a little lesson in Man Love 101.”

           

 


	14. Chapter 14

            The room was cool and dark.  The only light came from the moon and the stars and the glow of the city below them.  The walls were a tranquil ocean grey.  The bed was an expanse of sumptuous white silk.  Rimmer drew him inside and closed the door.  “Tonight -” he whispered, “And _only_ tonight – we are going to forget about that contract on the table out there.  We’re going to forget about that room next door and everything in it.  It’s just going to be you and me, and I’m going to show you how it should be.  I’m going to give you the first time you deserve.  But after tonight, if you decide to sign, the next time we have sex will be in that room.  And you’ll be in bondage.  You’ll be in my power.”

“I already am,” Lister whispered back.

            Rimmer pulled him close, gently brushed his locks back over his shoulder, then curled a strong hand around the back of his neck and kissed him.  In every place their bodies touched, Lister felt a warm ecstatic bliss.  He felt a firm tug as Rimmer pulled open each of the buttons on his shirt and stroked his chest, pulling very gently on his nipples to make them stiff and sensitive.  There was soft moist pressure as Rimmer’s tongue moved firmly into his mouth as if it belonged there.  It tingled slightly.  This, Lister began to realise, even without the kinky stuff, was not going to be like normal sex.  “Take off my shirt,” Rimmer murmured against his lips and Lister gladly obeyed.  Rimmer pressed against him, skin to skin, chest to chest.  It was wonderful but strange somehow.  At first Lister thought it was because he’d never been this close to another man, but then he realised it was something more basic, more primal than that.  Rimmer had no heartbeat. 

Their shirts floated silently to the carpet.  In the dim light, Rimmer’s skin glowed like polished marble.  Again, Lister thought dreamily of an Italian statue, only more supple, more touchable and – if possible – even more perfect.  His own cock couldn’t have been harder even if it had been carved out of marble. 

            Rimmer found it and stroked it through the tight denim and Lister thrust firmly against his palm.  “Mmm,” Rimmer purred, “That feels very...promising.  I think I’d better take a closer look.”  Lister tried to remember to breathe as Rimmer’s practised hands stripped him of his boots, jeans and boxers.  When he felt the air against him, his cock bare and exposed, he shivered with expectant delight.  “Oh, David,” Rimmer growled hungrily, “You are just full of pleasant surprises.  When I think of the fun I could have with _this_...”  His hand slid firmly up the shaft, making Lister gasp.  “Do what you want,” he replied, “Anything.  I’m all yours.”

“Tonight isn’t about what _I_ want,” Rimmer reminded him.  He led him to the bed and pushed down on his shoulders, sitting him at the foot, “If it was, you’d be bound hand and foot by now and gagged with my cock.”  The words made Lister flinch with shock but also...something else.  “But I suppose...” Rimmer mused, cupping his face and running his thumb over Lister parted lips, “I’ll have to make do with one out of three.  Undo my jeans, David.”  Obediently, Lister complied.  His hands were shaking but he was determined...and excited.  He slipped his hands inside Rimmer’s jeans and boxers, easing them down over his buttocks and baring his cock.

            It was long, slender and elegant, like his fingers.  Lister felt those fingers move into his hair, cradling his head and drawing him close.  He looked up into Rimmer’s face.  His hazel eyes glittered in the moonlight.  “Lesson one, Dave.  How to suck cock.  Are you ready?”

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely more than a squeak.

“Okay.  Lick your lips.”  Lister, very emphatically, obeyed.  “Now run your tongue over the head, nice and slow.”  Lister uncurled his tongue and flicked it delicately, base to tip, over Rimmer’s cock.  It tasted salty, musky, but not unpleasant.  Curiously, he tried it again, a little more firmly this time and was rewarded with a soft grunt from Rimmer.  “Very good.  Now run your tongue up the shaft.”

            Lister didn’t think he’d ever paid such good attention to a lesson before in all his life.  He followed every instruction to the letter and every sound of pleasure he managed to draw out of the increasingly breathless hologram felt like a gold star.  When Rimmer, buried what felt like a yard deep down his throat, finally told him amazingly calmly that he was going to come soon and Lister should move back now if he didn’t want that, he wrapped his arms around his hips and pulled him deeper into him.  He wanted this, wanted all of it, everything.  Rimmer grabbed his head in both hands, his fingers flexing spasmodically as he came explosively into Lister’s waiting mouth with a cry.

            Lister’s eyes, which had been closed, flew wide open.  He’d been expecting thick, sticky fluid.  Instead, his tongue came alive with a fierce buzzing sensation, as if he’d put a large live battery in his mouth.  He made a stifled sound of shock that made Rimmer groan and press against him with one final satisfied thrust before sliding out of him.  “Oh, man,” Lister managed to say weakly.

“Dave, baby,” Rimmer panted, “You are, without doubt, a natural.  Holy _smeg_.”

“What...was that?” Lister managed to get out, stupefied.

“You didn’t think it was going to be like ordinary come, did you?” Rimmer asked playfully. 

“I didn’t expect anything about tonight to be ordinary,” Lister replied, “But so far it’s exceeded all my expectations.”  He stuck his tongue out and tried to look at it cross-eyed, half expecting to see sparks still fizzing off it.  Rimmer laughed at him.  “That will wear off in a minute or two.  Or so I’ve been told.”  Lister pulled his tongue back in and tried not to scowl.  He didn’t want to think how many other people had tasted Arnold Rimmer before him.

            “Did you like that?” Rimmer asked, climbing onto the bed and sprawling out next to him.  Lister felt a faint blush of combined shame and pride heat his cheeks. 

 “Yeah,” he said, “I really liked it.”

“Good, because after that performance I think you’re going to be doing it a _lot_.  I can’t believe you took it in so deep on your first time.  I wasn’t expecting that.  I’m very impressed.”  Lister preened slightly,

“See, I’m not as delicate as you thought.”

“Well, you hold that thought, David, because we’re not done here.”  Rimmer smiled like a spider might at a fly.  Lister was pleased to hear it, and so was his aching cock, but the smile unnerved him a little.  “Are you going to return the favour?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes,” Rimmer said, “But not in kind.  You wait here for a moment and catch your breath.  I’m going to fetch something from next door.”

“I thought you said...”

“It’s nothing scary,” Rimmer interrupted, “Just lubricant.  I’m going to fuck you now and I don’t keep any in the bedroom.”

“Oh,” Lister said meekly. 

Rimmer studied his face, “Are you nervous?”

“No,” Lister lied, “But...don’t you need a minute?” 

“There’s a few things you have to learn about having sex with a hologram, Listy,” Rimmer said, slightly smugly.  “You’ve already discovered that swallowing my come is like having a mouthful of electrified popping candy.  But there are other little quirks too.”  He took Lister’s jaw firmly in one hand and kissed him, over and over, his tongue dancing in and out of his mouth teasingly.  Lister moaned in his arms.  Yes, he was nervous - scared even - but he’d never wanted anything more.  This was what he’d dreamed about, the reason why he’d come here, and he was ready.  Suddenly he felt something rub, very firmly, against his thigh.  He looked down and blinked.  “Surprise,” Rimmer said softly.

“Wow,” Lister said. 

“I’m not constrained by the limitations of a human body, Dave.  My form reacts to my emotions.  While I’m horny, I’m hard.  And you make me very, very horny indeed.”

“That’s good to know,” Lister remarked, slightly dazed.

“It has its drawbacks,” Rimmer warned him, “For you anyway.  It means that I’m harder to satisfy than a normal man.  If you become my sub, you’ll find that I don’t tire quickly.  That means placing a lot of demands on you – and your body.  You might want to consider that.”

“I will,” Lister said wide-eyed, and he meant it.  _Smegging hell, he could probably go for hours...all night long..._ The thought was both delightful and terrifying.

            Rimmer stood up.  “I’ll be back in a moment.  You just lie there and savour your last few moments of innocence.”

“I’ll savour it more when you’re destroying it,” Lister told him frankly.  Rimmer, for a second, actually looked a little shocked. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to do it in style,” he said, with a last longing look at Lister’s naked body before he left the room.

            Lister scrambled up the bed and waited impatiently in a huddle of silk and pillows.  When Rimmer returned, a tube clenched in his fist, they eyed each other across the bedroom.  “You have no idea,” Rimmer told him, “How sexy you look right now.  Whatever happens after tonight, whenever I see white silk I’m going to think of you.  I’m going to think of this moment.”

“Don’t make me wait,” Lister told him.  He’d wanted to sound stern, but it came out pleading, “I’ve waited for this long enough already.”

“I know” Rimmer said, crossing the room to join him, “So have I.”  He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss him.  His hand went to Lister’s cock and began to stroke him gently, up and down.  Lister, slumped amongst the pillows, moaned painfully.  “Please...” he said simply. 

Rimmer breathed deeply, “You’re not making this easy, Dave.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been a long time since I fucked anyone like this.  Vanilla style.  All my instincts right now are screaming at me to flip you over, tie your hands behind your back and spank you silly before fucking you senseless.”

“You want to spank me?” Lister asked fuzzily.  Rimmer’s hand on his cock was the only thing that seemed important right now.  “Yes.  If you were my sub I’d have you across my lap right now, making sure that perky behind of yours was a nice rosy pink before I fucked it.”

“So do it,” Lister said breathlessly, arching his hips to encourage Rimmer’s hand not to forget about him, “Just do it, I don’t care.”

“No.  Because if I do, it won’t end there.  I’ve got too many fantasies about you, about what I want to do to you.”

“I’ve only got one,” Lister said.  He reached up with both hands and - at last! - plunged his fingers into Rimmer’s hair, felt the slippery curls rippling like plaited silk at his touch, and pulled him down on top of him, kissing him desperately.

            If Rimmer was surprised he didn’t show it.  He rode the kiss, weathering Lister’s frantic writhing the way a seasoned horseman would a frisky pony.  He climbed on top of him and firmly parted his thighs, kneeling between them.  In between kisses he let Lister pull and tug gently at his hair, his mouth sucking gently at his shoulder or his neck as he slathered the lubricant over his hands.  When the first finger slid into him, Lister barely noticed.  When the second one joined it, he definitely noticed.  He made a sound in his throat and Rimmer looked down at him, very gently working the fingers deeper, stretching him little by little.  “How does it feel, baby?” he asked him solemnly.

“Good,” Lister managed, “Really good.”  Rimmer pushed a third finger into him and he whined a little and bit his lip. 

“Dave, look at me.”  Lister opened his eyes and met Rimmer’s eyes.  “It’s your first time.  I can’t guarantee this isn’t going to hurt. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You’ll have to do exactly what I say.  Is that clear?”

“Yes...”  He felt like those hazel eyes were hypnotising him.  He’d do anything, agree to anything, if he could just come with this beautiful handsome man inside him. 

            “Lift your hips for me.” Lister obeyed and with his free arm, Rimmer swept a plump pillow underneath him, keeping him raised up.  “Good boy.  Now put your hands behind your knees and pull your legs back for me, as far as you can.”  Again, feeling almost like he was dreaming, Lister obeyed.  Immediately he felt Rimmer’s fingers slide deeper into him and he moaned.  He thought of how he must look, spread out like this, every most intimate part of him exposed and open.  He was frightened, ashamed even, but so turned on it was painful.  He’d never felt like this before in his life.  As if reading his mind, Rimmer bent over and kissed him, his tongue toying with his mouth teasingly, even as his fingers toyed mercilessly with another opening of his body.  “You look so wonderful like this, Dave.  You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Please...I can’t take any more...Just do it.  Now.  Please...”

            He felt Rimmer’s fingers for a moment longer, holding him open, making sure he was slick enough and then something else, something bigger and harder, was taking their place, pushing inexorably into him, spreading him wide, piercing him and he thought he was going to die.  From pleasure, from pain, from the knowledge that this man - this man he worshipped so utterly – was doing this to him.

            At that moment he knew he was going to do it.  He was going to sign the contract.  He was going to be Arnold Rimmer’s submissive.  The hard limits, the soft limits, the room full of torture devices on the other side of this wall, all of that was just details to be argued over later.  He’d make compromises, he’d make sacrifices if he had to, but he couldn’t give this up.  Here, in this bed, in this moment, he belonged to Arnold Rimmer... and he liked it.

            He could feel Rimmer holding back, trying to be gentle, his hips shoving against him in a slow rhythm, his slick fingers playing over Lister’s cock, but the tentativeness of it was torture.  Lister just wanted more; every thrust made something deep inside him ache deliciously, made his cock throb with hunger.  As Rimmer’s pace inevitably quickened, he could feel that ache spreading through him, intensifying slowly but surely.  Rimmer’s eyes were narrowed in concentration, staring down at him as though scrutinising every sign of pleasure, measuring every response.  “Do you like this, Dave?” he asked through gritted teeth, “Do I feel good inside you?”

“So good,” Lister breathed.

“Just wait, baby,” Rimmer promised, “Do you remember how it felt when I came in your mouth?  Well just imagine what that’s going to feel like _inside_ you.”

“Oh...” Lister’s eyes widened and his cock twitched in Rimmer’s grasp as the thought hit home.  Oh God, he hadn’t thought...hadn’t considered...Oh God...

            Rimmer bent over and kissed him, “Don’t be scared, Dave.  It’s going to feel amazing, trust me.  It’s going to blow your mind.”  His stomach muscles, in all their firm sculpted perfection, slid deliciously across the tip of Lister’s cock and it was the last straw.  All of it - this new exciting pleasure inside him, Rimmer’s body on him and in him, the sudden expectation of what was going to happen next – all combined to send Lister over the edge.  The orgasm spread through him from the inside out and he cried out in excruciating pleasure.  His ass tightened sharply around Rimmer’s cock and it happened.  Rimmer threw his head back with a howl and all at once it was as if someone had popped a cork on a bottle of electric champagne and poured it straight into Lister’s body.  He came again, immediately and hard - something he hadn’t even known he was physically capable of – as the tingling shocks wracked his most sensitive parts with yet more blissful sensation; and it was a good thing that they were miles above civilisation, because otherwise they’d have heard his screams right across the planet. 

 


	15. Chapter 15

            Lister awoke in a soft pink cloud.  For a moment or two, he was confused and disorientated, then gradually his brain functions started to whir into slow action one by one.  He was in bed, wrapped in swathes of white silk and fluffy down.  Outside the massive window that filled his vision, drifts of thick cotton-wool cloud were rolling past.  Everything was tinged with the deep russet light of dawn on Jupiter.

            With great effort, he pulled himself up, puffy-eyed and looked around.  That’s right.  He was on Jupiter.  On the top floor of one of the biggest buildings in existence, in the private chambers of one of the wealthiest men in existence; after a night of the most incredible sex ever had by anyone, anywhere, in the whole history of mankind. 

It occurred to him, not entirely happily, that this was the second time in as many days he’d woken up not knowing quite where he was.  He was obviously still somewhere in Rimmer’s massive penthouse, but this wasn’t the bedroom he’d fallen asleep in (although ‘passed out in’ might have been a more accurate description of what had happened).  This room was smaller and the walls were a pale gold.  The clothes he’d worn last night were folded neatly on a chair by the wardrobe.  Rimmer was nowhere to be seen.

            He fell back down into his plush bedding with a soft ‘flump’, in a mess of mixed emotions.  How had he, David Lister, ended up here?  In this bed, this place, this _situation_?  Last night had been so insane; the sexually charged journey here, the personal jet, the room (oh smegging smeg, _the_ _room)_ , and then the sex (oh god, oh god, _the_ _sex_ ) and now...this.  Waking up all by himself in an unfamiliar place feeling – what?  Overwhelmed.  Lost.  Rejected.

            His stomach growled and he realised that what with one thing and another, he hadn’t eaten last night.  A combination of lack of food and some rather strenuous exercise meant he was now very hungry.  He climbed cautiously to his feet.  He was a little light-headed and a little sore all over, as if he’d spent a long night drinking and dancing, but not in any actual pain.  That was a big relief.  He pulled on his boxers, shrugged on his shirt and gingerly poked his head out of the bedroom door.  Silence.  He glanced up and down the empty hallway, his eyes lingering for a long moment on the door at the very end, then padded out on silent bare feet to find the kitchen.  Would Rimmer even have a kitchen?  And if he did, would it have any food in it?  It wasn’t like the man actually needed to eat, although from what Lister had seen he obviously enjoyed food.

            As he entered the sitting-room, he saw the folder still lying on the coffee table, along with the discarded whisky glasses.  His contract.  His fate.  He thought again of that room down the hallway and shivered involuntarily.   _You don’t have to do anything you don’t want_ , Petersen had told him as he’d left last night.  That was still true.  He’d had his night of passion with Arnold Rimmer.  He could still walk away and just remember last night for what it had been – a wonderful, life-changing experience he would never regret.  But that would also mean accepting that he’d never experience it again.  Not in the same way.  And not with _him_.

            The kitchen led off the sitting room.  Lister flinched as he turned the lights on and was suddenly blinded by the glare of stainless steel.  He could do without it at this time of day.  In one corner was a gigantic double-doored fridge that Lister probably could have lived in fairly comfortably.  He peered in.  As he’d expected, it was mostly empty, but there was bread and butter, milk, assorted ends of cheese, eggs, some bags of salad and a carton of orange juice.  He pulled out the bread, butter and milk and after some judicious searching managed to hunt down the toaster, a plate and a knife.  He couldn’t find a cup, so retrieved his empty whisky glass from the next room and rinsed it out for the milk.  When he had a little stack of buttered toast on his plate, he perched himself on one of the high kitchen stools lined up at the central counter.  He would have preferred to retreat to the bedroom and munch through his breakfast under the duvet, but Rimmer struck him as the sort of guy who wouldn’t appreciate crumbs in the sheets.

            As he chewed his toast, lost in thought, Rimmer appeared in the doorway in shorts and a tight t-shirt.  “Dave?  What are you doing up?”  Lister, feeling oddly guilty, swallowed his mouthful, “Sorry.  I was hungry.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m the one who should be sorry.  It was rude of me not to feed you last night, I should have realised you’d be starving by now.”

“It’s ok.  Really.”  He gazed admiringly at the superb body before him and reminded himself smugly, _I had sex with this guy._

“Do you like your room?”

“ _My_ room?”

“It will be, if you decide to enter into our...arrangement.”

“I’d have liked it better with some company,” Lister said quietly, giving Rimmer a fleeting sidelong glance.  “I’ve told you,” Rimmer said dismissively, “I always sleep alone.  When I sleep at all.”

“Why?”  Rimmer seemed perplexed by the question.

“I just always have.  It makes life simpler.”  _And_ _lonelier_ , Lister thought glumly, but said nothing.  “Have you been working out?” he asked, noting the outfit.

“Yes.  The gym and the pool are on the level below if you want to use them.  I wouldn’t have gone down there if I thought you were going to wake up this early.  I thought you’d be unconscious for a little longer.”

“I had a big night.”

“You did, didn’t you?”  Rimmer’s expression turned more serious, “How do you feel?”

“Fine.  A bit sore, I suppose, but I’m alright.”

“Good.  And how do you feel about...everything else?”

            Lister toyed awkwardly with his toast, “Okay,” he said simply.  Rimmer raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay?” he asked, “Are you sure about that?”

“It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know.  I don’t expect you to give me an answer now.  Think it over for a while, take your time before you make any decisions.”

“I don’t need to,” Lister said flatly.  He looked up into Rimmer’s tense face, “I want to sign the contract.  I want to be your submissive.”  He thought Rimmer would look pleased, but instead he frowned.  “Dave, have you even read through that contract yet?”

“No,” he admitted, “But I don’t need to.”

“Oh yes you do,” Rimmer told him firmly, “You don’t even know yet exactly what you’re agreeing to.”

“I know I have two choices,” Lister said, “Either I sign or I walk away.  And I’m not ready to walk away.  If this is what I need to do, then I’ll do it.  Or at least I’ll try.”

            “I was right about you,” Rimmer said with soft admiration, “You really are an extraordinary young man.”  He walked over and kissed Lister’s forehead.  The sense of rejection that Lister had felt on waking melted away.  “You were amazing last night,” Rimmer murmured to him, “I’m so proud of you, of how brave you’ve been – about everything.  It makes me want you so much more.”  Lister tried not to preen.  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Rimmer continued, “Don’t sign anything today.  Take the contract home with you, read through it, do some research.  On Friday night we’ll do some negotiations over dinner.  How does that sound?”

“Friday?” Lister exclaimed, dismayed, “I won’t see you again until then?”

“No.  I have work to catch up on and you have studying to do.  We’ve been distracting each other.”

“I suppose,” Lister muttered.

“David Lister, are you pouting?”

“Maybe.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.  It’s disconcertingly sexy.”

“Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that.  Last night was a one-off, miladdo.  You got your freebie, but any further shenanigans are going to have to wait until we’ve signed off a set of ground rules.”

            Lister sighed dramatically, but the frustration was real.  This was all so complicated.  Now that he’d made up his mind, he just wanted to get _on_ with things.  The idea of waiting until Friday before they could sort this all out once and for all was making him very twitchy.  “You’d better take me home quick then if we’re not allowed to have sex again until Friday. I think it’s going to get _very_ hot in here very quickly otherwise.”

“I think you might be right,” Rimmer remarked with a wry smile.  “I’d better sort your travel arrangements.”

“You’re not taking me home?”

“No.  I told you, I have work to do.  But I’ll book your flight and one of my drivers will take you to the shuttleport.  Taylor will be waiting for you at the other end.”

“Whatever you pay that guy, it isn’t enough.”

“He seems content.  There’s a change of clothes hanging in your wardrobe if you want them, by the way.”

“More new clothes?” Lister rolled his eyes.

“Before you start getting uppity, it’s just your clothes from Friday night.  The ones I had cleaned.”

“Oh.”

Lister had forgotten about that.  He’d been trying to purge the whole vomiting incident from his mind.  “Thank you,” he said awkwardly.  But the brief flash of annoyance had brought another matter floating to the forefront of his mind.  “While we’re on the subject,” he remarked, “We never got around to discussing what you’re going to do about that bike.”

“You don’t give up, do you?” Rimmer scowled.

“I’m glad that’s clear.”

“There’s a couple of things we need to get straight then,” Rimmer told him, his voice suddenly alarmingly sharp.  “If we’re going to do this you’re going to have to let go of that pride of yours – and I’m not just talking about what happens in the playroom.  Because being my sub isn’t just about sex, David.  It’s about giving yourself to me completely, and giving me control over almost every aspect of your life.  You have to decide whether or not you can handle that.  You’re also going to have to get over the fact that I’m rich.  I’m going to buy you stuff.  Deal with it.”

“I don’t mind you buying me stuff – _occasionally_ ,” Lister stressed, “But I don’t want to feel like a whore.”

“This isn’t about paying you or rewarding you for being my sub, you have to agree to that on its own terms.  But if buying you something makes me happy, or if I think it will make _you_ happy, then I’m going to do it.  Do you like the bike?”

“Well...yes.”

“Then it’s yours.  End of discussion.”

“I haven’t signed anything yet,” Lister muttered resentfully.  Rimmer huffed impatiently, “Maybe it would help if I put things into perspective for you.  You feel like the motorbike is too extravagant, yes?  That it’s something too big and expensive to accept just as a gift?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nothing,” Rimmer said flatly, “And that’s not me being gracious or generous, it’s the simple truth.  You still have no real grasp of the extent of my fortune.  To me that bike is pocket change, David.  Like you buying your roommate a pint at the bar.”  Lister stared at him, awestruck.  “To you it seems like a big gesture,” Rimmer continued, “But it’s not.  It’s a small token.  With the money I make in one day, Dave – just one day – I could have bought you your own private jet.  And there would still have been change left over.  Do you get it now?”

            Lister’s head swam.  He felt slightly dazed.  “Yes,” he said quietly, “I think so.”  He paused for a moment, then added meekly, “Thank you for the bike.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Rimmer told him.  He reached over and squeezed Lister’s hand.  “Go and get dressed,” he said more gently, “You’ve had a crazy week.  You need to go home and do a lot of sleeping and a lot of thinking.  In that order.”  Lister slid down off the stool and went back to the room - _his_ room, he supposed – to shower and dress and head back to reality.


	16. Chapter 16

            Barely two hours later, Lister found himself back at home, opening the door to his room.  Petersen wasn’t awake yet and there was still a slightly hushed Sunday morning air over the college campus.  He sat down on his narrow bed and it creaked under his weight as he fell back and stared at the ceiling.  There was a bird singing outside his window.

            He felt like he was losing his grip.  Had he really just got back from Jupiter, or had he just woken up in his bed?  Had he just been dropped home in his lover’s private limousine, or had the whole night all been one vivid, crazy dream?  And would that be such a bad thing?  He rolled over and eyed the plain, inconspicuous folder on his desk.  Not a dream then.

           He’d glanced at the contract, very briefly, on the flight back to Saturn while sitting all alone in the business class section.  What he’d read had made him close it again fairly swiftly.  It wasn’t just the sexual stuff (although Rimmer had been right, some of these words were going to require a little research on Lister’s part), it was the all-encompassing nature of the whole contract.  Rimmer wanted to control everything.  What he wore.  What he ate.  What he did.  Where he went.  Who he saw.  _Everything_.

           Reluctantly, Lister reached over and picked the folder up again for a more thorough look and started reading.  It was, there was no point denying it, psychotic.  When he’d woken this morning he’d been so ready to sign this thing and to hell with the consequences.  Now, back in his small dowdy room and away from Rimmer’s bewitching presence and the opulent dream-world of the tower it all seemed so...ludicrous.  _Impossible_. 

          He’d been subdued all the way home.  Tired; but more than that.  His talk with Rimmer this morning had shaken him and what little he’d read of this thing had only intensified the unease.  All of this had happened so fast, he hadn’t really had time to process it.  Now the enormity of everything, the reality of who Arnold Rimmer was – and what he wanted – had finally hit Lister right between the eyes.  He was reeling and, honestly, he was scared. 

        If his trip to Jupiter had made one thing plain to Lister, it was how vulnerable he was.  Rimmer already had so much power over him; emotionally, physically and financially.  He remembered how nervous he’d been at the shuttleport last night.  If Rimmer _had_ decided to kidnap him, what could he have possibly done about it?  He was fairly certain Rimmer could have forced him into his jet if he’d wanted to. From then on he’d been totally at his mercy.  The word that had come instantly to Lister’s mind on entering that room hadn’t been ‘playroom’, it had been ‘dungeon’.  And if Rimmer had a mind to it, that was exactly what it could be.  A place he could very easily hold Lister prisoner, in chains (or even a cage, for fuck’s sake, the man had a _cage!_ ) for as long as he chose.  On the top floor of Rimmer Central, as Lister had already found out, nobody would hear you if you screamed.

       He knew Rimmer was more than capable of alarming behaviour.  The way he’d treated Lister already was testament to that.  He’d stalked him, tracked him down, investigated his life and background, traced his phone.  What if he hadn’t been looking for a submissive at all?  What if he’d just been looking for the perfect victim?  Like a young, inexperienced student with no real ties or connections, no family to come looking if he just... disappeared.  Lister felt sick suddenly.  He’d told Rimmer that much himself.  _I’m all alone_ , he might as well have said, _No-one will notice if anything happens to me._ Petersen might raise the alarm, perhaps, when he sobered up enough to notice that Lister hadn’t been around for a few days.  But so what?  Who would suspect Rimmer?  And even if they did, he had the money and power to deflect any possible investigation – and destroy any possible evidence.

            He shook himself.  This was getting stupid.  If Rimmer had wanted to kidnap him or harm him he would have done it last night.  He’d had ample opportunity.  He certainly wouldn’t have bothered drawing up an NDA or this contract.  Lister thought he could be fairly sure that Rimmer’s intentions, while not exactly honourable, were not actually sinister.

Before he’d left, Rimmer had handed him a scrap of paper, torn from a pad with his own official logo printed across the top.  It was his personal mobile number and e-mail address.  “I’ll call you,” he’d said, “But you can use these to get hold of me if you have any questions, or if you need anything.”  _You_ , Lister thought now glumly, _I need you.  This all makes so much more sense when you’re with me._  He rolled out of bed and started up his computer and immediately started composing an email.

 

_Dear Mr Rimmer_

_I am home safe now.  Thank you for everything this weekend.  The flight back was very comfortable, but not as much fun as when you were driving._ _Taylor_ _was waiting for me just like you promised and with a cup of fresh coffee as well.  As I said already, I feel that man needs a raise._

_With regards to the other matter, I have read through your contract now.  I will give you a summary of my initial reactions._

  1. _You want me to see a personal trainer three times a week – I’m insulted.  If you don’t like my body how it is then you’re welcome to find another sub._
  2. _You want to devise an approved food plan for me – I am very happy to try new things and be guided by your expertise in this matter, but you are not telling me what I can and can’t eat._
  3. _You want me to attend a salon of your choosing for regular grooming, waxing and massage – Waxing??? What the hell???_
  4. _Hard Limits:  No acts that will leave permanent marks on the body, no acts that will cause severe harm or bleeding, no acts involving bodily waste/minors and/or animals, no acts involving third parties or the loaning of the submissive thereto - This all sounds sensible to me.  Although I’m a bit alarmed that you needed this written down..._
  5. _Soft limits: See below_


  * _First of all – anal fisting.  You’re having a smegging laugh, right?  HARD LIMIT!!!_
  * _Spanking/whipping etc – I’ll try it.  But don’t take the piss._
  * _Paddling – Not sure what this involves?  Are we going to the seaside?_
  * _Rimming – Again, I’m drawing a blank here.  Is this something you invented?_
  * _Nipple/genital clamps – How tight are we talking here?  Are we talking little pinch, or complete loss of circulation?_



_The rest of it...I’ll think about it._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Mr D Lister_

 

 

 

 

            He sent the message and sat back in his chair.  That was definitely the weirdest email he’d ever written.  He’d never expected to have to clarify in writing to someone that anal fisting would not be an acceptable sexual activity for him.  But then, there were a lot of things about this situation that he’d never anticipated having to deal with in his life.  He went and made a cup of tea and when he returned to his room there was a message in his inbox.

 

 

_Dear Mr Lister_

_Aren’t you glad now you read the contract before signing?  I’m glad you had a pleasant trip home and I’m only sorry I couldn’t accompany you.  In response to the issues raised:_

  1. _Personal trainer – I like your body very much how it is.  In fact I adore your body how it is.  However I have plans for it that will require a great deal of strength, stamina and suppleness.  Believe me, if you’re going to keep up, you will need to keep fit!_
  2. _Food – see above.  Like any responsible owner, I want to ensure my pet has a healthy balanced diet.  However, we can discuss this in further detail as I have no wish to force you to eat anything you genuinely dislike.  I very much want you to be happy._
  3. _Waxing – This clause is more relevant to female submissives (or extremely hairy men).  As you are neither female nor particularly hairy I think a less painful pampering session could be arranged._
  4. _Hard Limits – I am glad you agree with all of the above.  I know it’s alarming but it’s best to be absolutely clear on these things.  There are some very strange people out there..._
  5. _Soft limits – See below_
    * _Anal fisting – Fine.  So long as I know._
    * _Spanking/Whipping etc – This has made me very happy.  I assure you I will take things slowly._
    * _Paddling – You are a grown-man (just), with legal access to the galaxy-wide-web.  I advise you to do some research._
    * _Rimming – See above.  And no, I didn’t invent this but you wouldn’t know because I am, if I say so myself, something of an expert._
    * _Nipple/genital clamps – The answer to this question rests entirely with you...and what you think you can handle._



_Laters baby_

_Arnold_ _J Rimmer_

_p.s I’m sure I told you to get some sleep before you started thinking too much._

 

 

Lister read through the email torn in turns between shock, pleasure, indignation and arousal.  He didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or throw the machine out the window.  Instead he tapped out a brisk reply.

                                                                                     

_Dear Mr Rimmer_

_Thank you for your swift and thorough response.  For your information I am twenty years old and my body is already well-equipped with all the above mentioned qualities you require.  Besides, in case you are forgetting, I am a busy student with study and work commitments and simply do not have the time to invest three hours a week in the gym.  It will be hard enough to devote time to our arrangement as it is._

_For the record, I prefer the term ‘submissive’ to ‘pet’.  Are you going to put a collar and a bell on me?  That sounds extremely undignified and I certainly do not want the threat of castration held over me._

_As for your remark about the strange people out there, I have three words for you, Mr Rimmer.  Pot.  Kettle.  Black._

_Yours Sincerely_

_Mr D Lister_

 

 

He sent the email and then, with some trepidation, opened his web browser.  He was not by any means a newcomer to the strange world of internet pornography, but he had a strong feeling that he was about to enter a whole new dimension here.  Somehow he didn’t think his occasional forays into sites such as Babes on Bikes and Sluts of the Solar System was going to prepare him for this.

 

He was right.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

            After a very informative morning of internet research, Lister was feeling decidedly off-kilter.  This whole scene was so strange to him, so removed from what he considered erotic.  He browsed from site to site, every new revelation and bizarre new sexual practice he discovered perplexing him more.  He wasn’t offended by it, as such, but shocked and occasionally genuinely baffled.  _Really?_ \- he thought to himself, watching one guy come as the soles of his feet were caned by a leather-clad woman - _people are actually turned on by this?_

Eventually he heard the soft chime of new mail arriving in his inbox and opened it warily.

 

_Dear Mister Lister_

_I am missing you and your stubborn streak already.  I accept your argument that time is a precious commodity in this arrangement and am therefore willing to be flexible in the amount of time you spend with your trainer.  I will point out however that if you would get over yourself and accept the internship I have offered you it would free up a significant amount of your time._

_For your information, I have a variety of collars and leashes at my disposal, although I hadn’t considered a bell – what a marvellous idea.  You are proving to be quite a source of inspiration.  Do not be concerned by the prospect of neutering, I think you’re much more valuable to me as a stud.  However, I suggest you drop any hang-ups about your precious dignity right now.  Once you sign the contract that dignity, along with the rest of you, belongs to me._

_I would also like to point out that by engaging in this discussion at all, you are one of those strange people now by default.  Pot, kettle, black, David._

_Arnold_ _J Rimmer_

           Lister read through the email a couple of times, still wracked by a storm of mixed emotions.  Whenever Rimmer talked about owning him like this, it immediately made him touchy and defensive.  But at the same time, he had to admit, there was something achingly sexy about it.  Lister was, on one level at least, aware that he was in the grip of utter infatuation with this man and therefore not thinking as clearly as he maybe should be; but what made it even harder to deal with was that Rimmer seemed almost equally infatuated with him.  The knowledge that Rimmer wanted him at all was a huge aphrodisiac.  That Rimmer wanted him _this_ way, so completely - strange and frightening though it was to him - was mind-blowing.  He remembered how he’d felt last night as Rimmer had, so spectacularly, taken his second virginity.  He remembered the overwhelming sense of adoration he’d felt, that he’d do anything for him.  He had felt, quite literally, like a man possessed.  Imagine...if he could feel that way all the time.  Imagine if he could feel that close and connected to him without even having to be naked.  Imagine just knowing, every minute of the day, that he belonged to Arnold Rimmer.

           He stood up and went to the window.  He stared out at the familiar surroundings, trying to centre himself.  Trying to remember who he was.  He’d always been strong and independent.  But he’d had no choice.  He’d had to grow up quickly and learn to take care of himself.  His gran, bless her soul, had done what she could but Lister – from a very young age – had been more or less used to running his own life.  It was a difficult thing to release that trust and responsibility to someone else, even under the most benign circumstances.  But to someone who openly wanted to abuse him?  To tie him up, whip him, humiliate him?  He glanced over to the contract, lying open on the bed.  He thought of the tender way Rimmer had kissed his forehead over breakfast this morning.  How could he relate that man to the guy in these pages?  Who was the real Arnold Rimmer?  The one who’d cared for him and put him to bed when he’d been a drunken mess, or the one who wanted to put a bell round his neck and clamps on his nipples?  And why was there a stubborn part of Lister that still wanted him desperately either way?

He sat back down at the computer.

 

_Dear Mister Rimmer_

_Although you make a good point, I think it would probably be inappropriate for us to enter into any kind of professional relationship at the present time.  Aside from the more practical matters, I think you will have quite enough power over me as your submissive without being my boss as well._

_I have, on your advice, conducted some research which has given me plenty to think about.  Paddling – okay, whatever.  Rimming - ????????????????????????????????_

_I don’t know what else to say._

_To raise another matter, you were right, it is entirely possible to track a person’s whereabouts via their mobile phone on the internet.  However, in order to do this, the person does need to give their permission and enable this function on their device.  I am certain that I have done neither of those things.  Would you care to explain yourself?_

_Mister D Lister_

 

He didn’t have to wait very long for a reply.

 

_Dear Mister Lister_

_I am sure I told you to get some sleep.  I believe I was quite clear on this._

_As regards your work situation, I respect your decision but I don’t approve of it.  I don’t think holding down two jobs is going to be beneficial for either our arrangement or your studies, and believe it or not, it is important to me that you do well._

_I hope that the question marks regarding a certain proposed soft limit are the good kind – but we can discuss that in more detail on Friday if necessary._

_About your phone, I appear to have been – as you kids say – busted.  In my defence, I only said it was possible to track a phone over the internet, I never actually claimed that was what I’d done.  I have, as I’m sure you have already guessed, other methods available to me.  As the resulting situation worked out well for all involved (apart from your slimy admirer), I hope you will forgive me._

_Arnold_ _Rimmer_

Lister sighed deeply.  He was tired now and he could use a nap, however he fired off a parting shot.

 

_Don’t do it again.  I mean it.  If I want you to know where I am, I’ll tell you myself.  If I don’t, I would ask you to kindly respect that.  By the way, this may be a good time to pass on a message from my roommate that I forgot to give you yesterday.  He says what he told you on Friday still stands.  You have been warned._

_P.S You don’t seem to be getting much work done today._

Rimmer replied almost instantly.

 

_I’ll bear that in mind.  And for your information I am in a meeting as we speak.  Don’t be cheeky.  And go get some sleep._

_You’re in a meeting and you’re talking to me about rimming???  What would your shareholders make of that???_ Lister remarked.

_GO TO BED!!!  I’m not telling you again._

Lister grinned to himself.  _Yes_ _sir_ , he typed.  And shut down his computer.

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

            Lister awoke from his nap in the early afternoon with a fresh sense of purpose.  If he wasn’t going to see Rimmer again until Friday then he was going to need something to focus him and he knew what it should be.  He had a project due in and so far he hadn’t even started it, he’d been struggling to find a good topic, but now he had a plan.  First he called Kochanski for assistance.  “Hey,” she greeted him warmly, “How was your hot date?”

“Hot,” Lister confirmed with a smile.  That surely had to be a contender for understatement of the year award.  “Oh well,” she said merrily, “I didn’t really expect that voodoo doll I made of Rimmer to work anyway.  Maybe next time I’ll use bigger pins.”

“That’s sweet,” Lister told her, deadpan, “Listen I need a favour.”

“Okay.”

“You know a lot of the science buffs, right?  Is there anyone on the astrophysics course who isn’t a complete smeghead?”

“I can think of a couple of people.  Why?”

“I’ve got an idea for a paper but it would work better as a joint project.  Obviously I’d prefer it if my working partner wasn’t a massive arsehole who’ll treat me like dirt.”

“Ah, fair enough.  I think I might know just the fella actually.  Do you know Aleksander Petrovitch at all?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Dark hair.  Glasses.  Speaks almost perfect English but very strong Russian accent.”

“Nope.”

“I’ll introduce you.  He’s a bit eccentric but he’s very nice, you’ll like him.  And he’s an excellent physicist apparently; he’s extremely passionate about his subject.”

“He sounds perfect.”

“Meet me at the science block in ten minutes.”

“Thanks Kriss.  I owe you one.”

“No, you don’t.  I never paid you back for covering that interview for me, so this makes us square.  Although...” her voice raised suggestively, “I suppose I could claim responsibility for introducing you to your new boyfriend.”

“Frankly, I’m still trying to decide if that was a good move or not,” Lister said, only half joking.   Kriss sighed, “There really is no pleasing some people.”

            They found Petrovitch in one of the research labs.  He turned out to be one of the most delightful people Lister had ever met.  He shook his hand ferociously as they were introduced, full of enthusiasm and warmth.  “Very pleased to meet you,” he boomed, his loud Russian voice at odds with his slender frame, “Kochanski says you are looking for an essay partner, yes?  I am happy to be of assistance if I can!”

“Thanks, man,” Lister grinned, taken aback by the man’s spaniel-like buoyancy.  “Listen, do you know anything about parallel universes?”

“Parallel universes?  Oh yes!  Very interesting, lots of theories!”

“Well, what if were to assume that these universes exist?  What if there was a way, potentially, to move through them?”

“Through a wormhole perhaps?”

“Maybe.  But what if you wanted to travel at will?  What if it was possible,” he tried to remember how Rimmer had phrased it, “To break the speed of reality?”

            Petrovitch’s eyes widened behind his glasses, “The speed of reality?  Ah, how fascinating!”  He whirled around, grabbed a pen and started to scrawl what looked to Lister like absolute gibberish across the board.  “I think it is possible,” he remarked as he worked, “In theory.  We could certainly work on it as a hypothesis.”

“That’s great,” Lister said earnestly, “But if the hypothesis works out, then how about taking it a step further?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re a physicist,” Lister told him, “You can work on whether it’s possible in theory.  I’m an engineer.  I can work on how we could make it happen.”

“Oooh!” Petrovitch seemed thrilled, “I am liking this project very much, David.  How long do we have?”

“About 4 weeks.  Is that okay?”

“Is that all?  Ah, well.  4 weeks is maybe not time enough to make breakthrough but certainly long enough to make very good essay, yes?”

“You’re in?”

“I’m in,” Petrovitch high-fived him, excited.

            Lister spent the week buried in his studies.  If he’d wanted a distraction from thoughts of his suddenly bizarre personal life, he couldn’t have chosen a better academic partner.  Petrovitch’s charming exuberance kept him on his toes and kept the project interesting at times when he would have flagged if going it alone.  The guy was indisputably a genius, but he never made Lister feel stupid or patronised when explaining things to him.  When Lister wasn’t working at the bar, they would study late into the evening after their respective lectures and workshops, and often Lister barely had time to check if he had any messages from Rimmer before tumbling into bed.

            They had kept up a steady conversation over text and email over the last few days.  Rimmer, naturally, was curious about his new project and amidst the more practical talk they indulged in some innuendo and flirting, but kept it light.  Lister knew he should be thinking hard about the contract filed away in his desk, but it was so difficult.  He felt like his life had snapped into two distinctly separate pieces.  There was college, where he was a normal young man working hard to get his qualifications and start his career.  Then there was Rimmer and a world of jets, limousines and extremely kinky sex.  When he was with Rimmer it had felt like the real world had evaporated and the idea of dreary part-time jobs and essay deadlines all seemed utterly irrelevant.  Now he was here, Rimmer and all his exotic baggage felt like a daydream he’d cooked up during a dull shift.  It was all very disorientating.

            On Friday morning, he got a message.  _Taylor_ _will pick you up at seven._  He bit his lip.  This was it.  D-day.  Time to meet his destiny and all that went with it.  After a lot of thought, he picked up the phone and called his supervisor at the megamart to quit his job.  His tuition fees had been paid now until the end of term when he’d be graduating anyway and he thought he could survive until then on the money he made at the bar.  He explained to his boss that he needed the time now to focus on his studies, which was true.  He didn’t think his boss needed to know the whole truth and explaining it would be awkward to say the least.

            He sat down at his desk, read through the contract one final time with a pen and a highlighter, made some amendments and slid it back into the folder.  Then he went out for a ride on his bike.  Not the Ducati, but _his_ bike.  The one he’d built himself.  He leaned into the screaming ferocity of the wind, his locks whipping back in the slipstream and mused that this was probably the last time for at least three months that he would be truly free.  The thought was still frightening, but somehow he didn’t mind.  He was about to dive off the high board, to leap unknown into the abyss.  The nerves were just a light tingle now in his stomach and the tips of his fingers.  Otherwise, he felt oddly calm.  He’d made his decision.

 

            Taylor turned up a little before seven, with a long plastic bag over one arm.  “Good evening, Mister Lister.”

“Hello again, Taylor.  How are you?”

“Very well, thank you for asking.  And you?”

“Good thanks,” he eyed the package, “Is that for me?”

“Yes, Mister Lister.  Mister Rimmer requested that you wear this tonight.”

“Did he?” Lister replied dryly, taking the bag with a put-upon expression. 

“I’ll wait here while you change,” Taylor said, “We don’t need to leave for a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Taylor.”  Lister retreated to the bedroom and unzipped the bag with some trepidation.  He wondered vaguely how much Taylor knew about his boss.  Did he know about the playroom, the subs, the contracts?  Nothing much seemed to faze him.  If Rimmer was going to insist that Lister wear some kind of fetish costume to dinner it would give the game away somewhat.

            Thankfully, it was just a tuxedo but Lister still pulled it on reluctantly – he’d never worn a suit like this before.  It was entirely not his style and he felt strange in it.  The bow tie, at least, was a ready to wear one – he’d have had no clue what to do with it otherwise.  As he picked it up, it tinkled softly.  Surprised, Lister gave it a little shake.  It tinkled again.  There was a bell concealed inside the knot.  Lister didn’t know whether he was amused or furious.  He thought about tossing it back into the bag, but forced himself to take a deep breath.  Maybe Rimmer was making a point or maybe it was just a joke.  The reality was, this was probably not the worst thing he was going to have to do over the next twelve weeks of his life.  He put the tie on and picked up the folder from his desk.

            When he walked out of the bedroom, Taylor smiled at him approvingly.  “Very nice, Mister Lister.”

“I feel like an idiot in this getup.”

“I think you look very dashing,” Taylor said loyally.  He gestured for Lister to follow him to the car. 

“Where are we going?” Lister asked curiously, “Back to the hub?”

“No, just into town.  Mister Rimmer is staying back at the Ritz and has arranged dinner for you both there.”

“Oh, okay,” Lister was surprised.  He’d thought Rimmer would be itching to get him into the playroom the second his name was on the dotted line.  He climbed into the back of the limo, clutching the folder in his hands and set off to meet his master.

             

 


	19. Chapter 19

A valet met them at the entrance to the hotel.  Taylor wound down his window, “Guest for Mister Rimmer,” he announced.  The valet nodded, opened Lister’s door and bowed courteously as he climbed out, with as much dignity as he could manage.  He was never going to be able to unfold gracefully out of this car the way Rimmer did.

            The valet led him into the hotel and through the foyer.  Lister was expecting to head into the dining room, where there was already the hum of polite chatter and the tinkle of glass and crockery, but the man led him in a different direction.  He stopped outside a pair of double doors to one side and opened one, waving Lister through.

            Lister stepped, uncertainly, into the hush of an empty ballroom.  The chandeliers sparkled in the soft light, like crystal supernovas.  Marble pillars lined each side of the room.  In the centre of the polished wooden dance floor, was a single table covered in a crisp white linen cloth and lit with candles.  Rimmer stood waiting for him by the table, he’d risen from his chair as Lister entered.  He held out a hand.  Lister regarded the scene in front of him with a sort of stupefied disbelief.  He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, not really, after everything.  But still it startled him that Rimmer could do something like this, hire out the ballroom at the Ritz for them to have dinner together, and that he would do it for _him_.

            He walked towards him slowly, taking in this scene, this moment.  When he finally laid his hand into Rimmer’s, he raised it to his lips and kissed it gently.  Lister thought of the last time Rimmer had taken his hand that way, sucking on his fingers on the back seat of the limo.  The atmosphere between them tonight was so different.  There was none of that fraught, first-date urgency.  This was more like he’d expect a proposal would feel, the sense of anticipation in the air was like a fine mist of perfume.  In this room, on this night, they were going to make a pact that was going to take their relationship to a whole new level.  Agreeing to be this man’s slave wasn’t exactly romantic, Lister mused, gazing up into Rimmer’s eyes – but it was still a pretty big deal.

            “You look exquisite,” Rimmer told him huskily.

“I feel like a numpty,” Lister replied, but he couldn’t make his voice sound truly angry.  Not standing in this room with Rimmer holding his hand.

“Well, the bow tie suits you anyway,” Rimmer smiled meaningfully, flicking it and making it jingle.  Lister narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, just call me Tiddles,” he replied snarkily.  Rimmer laughed and slid the folder out of his hand, “Is this for me?” he asked carefully.  Lister swallowed hard, “Yes.”

“Then let me take a look,” he lowered Lister down into his chair and sat down opposite him.  Lister gazed at him over the candlelight, the sparkle of the chandeliers reflecting in his neat curls, and felt lust welling up in his body like tears would in his eyes.  _Forget dinner_ , he wanted to say.  _Let’s go back to your place.  Let’s make this thing start happening._   “I thought,” he ventured tentatively, “We’d be back on Jupiter tonight.”

“I decided it would be better if we did this on more neutral territory,” Rimmer said, “This is a business meeting, don’t forget.  I want you to feel at ease with the situation.”

“At ease,” Lister remarked, with a hint of sarcasm, looking around himself, “Right.”

              He watched Rimmer’s long elegant fingers slide the contract out of the folder and flick slowly through the pages.  “Hmmm...” he said thoughtfully, “You’ve ticked almost everything.”

“I want to make you happy,” Lister replied weakly.

“That doesn’t mean you should do things you’re not comfortable with.  Or that you don’t like.  Have you really thought about this properly?”

“I’m sure I’ll like anything if you’re the person doing it to me.”

“But not fisting?” there was the suggestion of a smile in Rimmer’s otherwise serious expression.  Lister winced, “Not that,” he confirmed. 

A waiter with a trolley entered and placed silver platters and a bottle of champagne in front of them.  He slipped out again silently.  Rimmer lifted the lid from his dish and Lister did the same.  He didn’t recognise what the meal before him was - duck maybe – but it was pretty enough to be framed in a gallery.  Rimmer smiled at his perplexed expression.  “The art of fine dining,” he commented, as if reading Lister’s mind.  “You know,” Lister replied, “One day we’ve really got to go for a curry.”

“Maybe as a treat.  _Tiddles_.”   Rimmer smiled.

“If it makes you feel any better we could hire out the whole restaurant,” Lister teased, in retaliation, “Pay Bollywood superstars to dance for us while we eat.  Would that be more to your liking?”

“Be quiet and eat your dinner,” Rimmer told him loftily, “I’m reading.”  His eyes returned to the contract.  Lister bit back a rude reply and did as he was told.  This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

            “Here on page three,” Rimmer said after a couple of minutes silence, “It looks like you ticked the clause about gags then scribbled it out and ticked it again.”

“Yeah,” Lister replied cautiously, “I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.”

“If it reassures you,” Rimmer told him, “I wouldn’t use a gag on you just yet anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really.  I don’t want anything to limit my access to that lovely mouth of yours.”  Lister blushed, going the same shade of pink as the sauce around his duck.  “Besides you’re too inexperienced.  Until we know each other a little better I need you to be able to communicate with me constantly during our sessions together.”

“Why?”  Rimmer smiled like a snake at his innocent question,

“So you can tell me to stop if it hurts too much.”

“Fair enough,” Lister replied faintly, “Can I have a drink?”

“Have some water,” Rimmer said, “I want you to be 100% sober when you sign this thing.”

“You know,” Lister said, a little more boldly, “That contract is not even remotely legal.  If I changed my mind it’s not like you could throw me in jail.”

“I know,” Rimmer replied, airily, “But I think it’s important that we’re both clear on what we’ve agreed right from the start.  Don’t you?”

“Yes,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Then drink some water.”

            “I think you should know,” Lister told him cautiously, “I quit my job at the megamart this morning.”  _That_ made Rimmer look up.

“Is that so?”

“I decided I could cope for the last few months of term on my wages from the bar, especially if the tips are good.  And I figured I’d be spending a lot less money if you’re taking up all my free time.”

“You don’t have to worry about money while you’re my sub.  That’s a promise.”

“Thank you,” Lister said, “But I’ve done the maths.  I think I’ll be fine.”

“Very well.”

            Rimmer pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and signed his name; then offered it to Lister, sliding the contract across the table towards him.  “I’m ready if you are,” he told him softly.  Lister’s pulse rate doubled.  “There’s just a couple of things I have to ask you first,” he said anxiously. 

“So ask.”

“When the three months are up,” Lister fidgeted slightly, “What happens then?”  Rimmer looked surprised. 

“We re-negotiate,” he said, “If either of us are unhappy then we dissolve the arrangement.  Otherwise we make any necessary amendments to the contract and re-sign.”

“Have you kept someone on longer than three months before?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the longest time you’ve kept someone?”

“Eighteen months.”

“Why did it end?”

“Because I got bored,” Rimmer said frankly.  Lister paused to let this sink in.  Rimmer watched him carefully.  “You had another question,” he prompted gently after a moment.

            Lister squared his shoulders and faced him, trying to look braver than he felt.  “Why me?” he asked simply.  Rimmer raised an eyebrow.  “I mean it,” Lister said.  “You could have anyone you wanted.  There are websites full of people across the galaxy who are into this stuff.  People who would kill for what you’re offering me.  People with experience, who would know what you want, who would know how to please you.  People who wouldn’t need to look up certain words on the internet.”  Rimmer smiled indulgently.  “So why would you choose to hook up with some chubby little toerag from Toxteth with no clue how to play this game?”

            Rimmer sat back in his chair and regarded him affectionately, “You’re not chubby,” he said.  Lister glared at him impatiently and he shook his head.  “Honestly, Dave,” he said earnestly, “I don’t know.  Maybe it’s because when you walked into my office that day I was expecting some boring middle-class princess and instead I got presented with the most beautiful boy I’d ever laid eyes on, clad head to toe in tight black leather.  You took me by surprise.  You were bright, you were sexy and you had an indefinable air of rebelliousness about you which was very alluring.”

“You don’t like rebelliousness.  You like obedience.” Lister pointed out, confused.

“I like control,” Rimmer corrected him, “And the idea of having a feisty little thing like you under my control is very exciting to me.”

“So you like a challenge,”

“I like _you_ ,” Rimmer said firmly, “This may surprise you but I’ve never done this before.  All of my previous submissives have been experienced.  They’ve been older than you and they’ve been part of the scene for a long time.  This is the first time I’ve just plucked a kid like you out of the air and trained them up from scratch.  You know I’ve had reservations about this from day one, about the risks involved – for _both_ of us – but you are irresistible to me.  I’ve been obsessed with you, with owning you, since the day we met.”

“But what if I can’t do it?” Lister asked, troubled, “What if I disappoint you?”

“You could never disappoint me.  Whatever happens next, I’ll be grateful that you were willing to try.”  Rimmer sounded sincere.

            Lister took a moment to compose himself.  He thought of what Rimmer had said to him that night outside the bar, that he was terrified of hurting him.  Well, now everything was out in the open.  And Lister was afraid of being hurt.  The playroom frightened him, but not as much as the thought of devoting himself to this man for three months, giving everything he had, giving himself more completely than he ever had – and then at the end of it all being tossed aside when Rimmer got bored of him.  Could he bear that?  Whether it was three months or six months or maybe even longer, would he be able to endure the rejection when it inevitably came?  Was whatever happened between now and then worth the eventual heartbreak?

He reached over uncertainly and plucked the pen from Rimmer’s fingers.  Rimmer watched him without a word as he popped the cap off.  The candlelight gleamed off the golden nib – real gold, no doubt – as he pressed it to the paper.  “Dave,” he looked up, startled, into Rimmer’s hazel eyes.  His face was solemn but those eyes were sparkling with undisguised excitement.  “Be sure,” he said simply.  The sight of those eyes dancing with flame had the exact opposite effect on Lister than Rimmer had intended; or maybe exactly the effect he’d intended. 

 

Lister signed his name.

 

 

 

           

 

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

            Rimmer popped open the champagne and poured it out.  “Here’s to the next three months,” he raised his glass and Lister clinked his against it with a shy smile.  He didn’t really like champagne very much, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment.  It was odd, but he didn’t really _feel_ any different.  He’d been expecting a wave of something, some sort of revelation, but he still felt like plain, boring Dave Lister.  “I’m pleased to hear about your job,” Rimmer continued, “I think you made the right decision.  And of course it means I’ll have you all to myself over the weekends.”

“That’s the idea,” Lister said, “I imagine I’m going to need some rather intensive training.”

“Indeed,” Rimmer’s eyes lit up at the thought, “The next couple of weeks are going to be very interesting for both of us, I assure you.”  He sipped at his champagne and shook his head, “God, when you told me last week that you’d never been with another man I didn’t know whether to scream or come in my pants.”

“Yes,” Lister rolled his eyes, “ _I_ really dropped a bombshell on _you_.  I should be ashamed.”

“You know,” Rimmer said thoughtfully, “Although it freaked me out at first that you were so inexperienced, now I rather like the idea.  I love the thought that I’m the only man who’s ever had the privilege of being with you.  And I love that everything I do to you is new and exciting.  This is going to be quite an adventure.”

            “Are you taking me back to the hub tonight?” Lister asked.

“No, I’ve booked the suite here.”

“So we’re not going to have sex?” Lister asked, disappointed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well...don’t you need stuff?  From the playroom?  You said the next time we had sex...”  Rimmer smiled at him, clearly amused,

“Why don’t you just wait and see?  Remember, it’s not up to you when or how we have sex.”

“Yes, sir,” Lister replied moodily.  Rimmer raised an eyebrow,

“David, do I detect a certain tone in your voice?”

“No, sir,” Lister replied quickly.

“I’m sure I did.  For a moment there, I’m sure I heard a distinct tone.  Do you really need reminding of your place so soon?”

“What are you going to do?” Lister asked, amused, “You can’t exactly give me a good spanking in here.  Someone might come in at any moment.”

“Can’t I?” Rimmer purred.

            Lister froze.  Rimmer wouldn’t want to be caught engaging in that kind of behaviour here in the Ritz of all places, surely?  But on the other hand, as far as the staff were probably concerned, Arnold Rimmer could do as he pleased.  He could buy this hotel if he wanted, they weren’t likely to throw him out for indulging in a little sex-play with his dinner partner in a private room.  “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

“Oh really?” Rimmer stood up and Lister gulped.

“Come on, man,” he said nervously, “That waiter will be back for our plates at any second.”

“Maybe I had all the staff sign NDA’s before I would stay here.  Did you think of that?”

“Um, no,” Lister allowed, shrinking back slightly in his chair as Rimmer bent over him.  “So really,” Rimmer mused, leaning in close to him, “It wouldn’t matter one bit if that waiter were to come in and find you across my lap with your trousers down and your bottom beautifully pink.  It wouldn’t matter at all.”

            Lister heard the door open behind them and stared up at Rimmer, waiting to see what he’d do.  Rimmer smiled and kissed him very deliberately on the mouth.  Then went and sat back down in his chair.  “Thank you,” he said graciously to the obviously embarrassed waiter who set down their desserts and then scampered out again.  Lister let out his breath, his heart racing.  “Don’t be too relieved,” Rimmer remarked, picking up his spoon.  “You don’t know yet what I’ve got planned for you tonight.”

 

           After the meal, Rimmer picked up the ice bucket with the remaining champagne and held out his other hand to Lister.  “Come on.  We’ll finish this upstairs.”  He led him through the hotel lobby to the lifts, keeping hold of his hand.  When the lift doors closed behind them, he slid one arm around Lister’s waist and drew him tight against him, kissing him possessively.  Lister melted against him, luxuriating in the feel of that strong remarkable body against his.  He wondered to himself if there was anyone else in the universe who could kiss like this man did.

            As they entered the suite, Lister looked around curiously.  It was just as big and luxurious as he remembered.  He wanted to laugh.  He’d never expected in his life to be so familiar with the Grand Suite of the Ritz Saturn.  If only his gran could see him now...Rimmer’s hand lightly stroked his crotch as he firmly kissed the side of his neck and Lister quickly shook that thought away.  Perhaps not.

            Rimmer pressed a switch by the door and around the room small lights came on low, just giving enough light to see by and to make the shadows inky black.  Silently, he led Lister to the sofa in front of the large window.  He placed the ice bucket down on the small side table and retrieved two glasses from the mini-bar, which he set down beside it.  He took Lister’s face in his hands, “This is it,” he whispered to him, “You belong to me now.  How does it feel?”  He kissed him deeply.

“It feels wonderful,” Lister whispered back when he could speak.

“This is only the beginning,” Rimmer murmured, “So we’re going to start slowly.  You understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Dave.  Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Sir,” he repeated.

“Okay.  I’m going to sit down on the couch now.  I’m going to have a drink.  And I want you to undress for me.  I’m going to watch you.”

“Okay,” Lister said in a small voice, “Sir.”  Rimmer eased down onto the couch and looked at him expectantly.

            _Oh smegging hell_ , Lister thought frantically.  He’d never done a striptease before in his life.  “Um, what should I do with my clothes?” he asked awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” Rimmer told him, pouring himself a drink.  Self-consciously, Lister shrugged out of his dinner jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair.  He unclipped his bow tie and Rimmer held out his hand.  Lister tossed it to him coquettishly, the tiny jingle it made as it flew through the air making him smile.  Rimmer grinned.  “Now the rest.”  Lister began to unbutton his shirt and Rimmer piped up again, “Uh-uh-uh!  Slowly does it.  You take your time.  I want to savour this.”  Lister obeyed.

            He wasn’t sure if it was the steady pressure of Rimmer’s eyes on him, or the huge gaping window behind him, but he’d never felt so exposed.  He knew that they were too high up for anyone to be able to see this, but it felt so... _shameless_.  Rimmer watched him intently, sipping his champagne.  After a few minutes he unravelled his own bow tie, a proper one, and undid the top two buttons of his shirt.  He looked so delicious in his ruffled tux, his curls starting to unwind from the slick gel, it made Lister weak.  Eventually he stood naked in front of him, hard and trembling with excitement and need.  Rimmer held out a hand to him, “Come here to me.”  Lister did so.  Rimmer slid to the edge of his seat and took Lister’s naked form in his arms.  He gently nuzzled his stomach with his nose.  “You are so...perfect,” he breathed against his skin.  Lister shivered warmly at the feel of his warm breath so close to his cock.  “Turn around for me, David.  I want to see all of you.”  Without a word, Lister did as he was told.  When he was facing the window, he felt Rimmer’s hands on his hips, holding him in place.  “Stop there.  I want to admire this view.”  Lister, already blushing from the toes up, was certain he must be pomegranate red by this point.

            Rimmer ran his hands down Lister’s bare arms, then gently brought them to the small of his back.  Lister gasped at the feel of cool satin against his wrists, as Rimmer swiftly and firmly bound them behind his back with his tie.  _Here we go_ , he thought tensely, _so it begins..._ Rimmer’s lips moved over his skin, lingering at the crease at the very top of his buttocks.  “Get down on your knees, David,” he ordered softly.  Lister, his eyes fixed on the stars outside the window, sank to the floor.  Behind him, Rimmer kissed his neck, making his nipples and his cock stiffen further.  Before he knew it, Rimmer’s fingers were fastening something deftly around his throat.  He gasped slightly.  It was his bow tie.  Rimmer flicked it and the bell jingled.  Lister felt a surge of bruised humiliation, but the feel of Rimmer’s lips moving over his skin again distracted him.  “That’s right,” Rimmer whispered to him, “You’re my pet now.  My precious pet.  What do you say?”

“Meow,” Lister replied sullenly, but his breathlessness gave away his arousal.  Rimmer chuckled darkly, “I was going for ‘Yes, Sir’,” he told him, “But ‘meow’ will do just nicely I think.”

            He placed his hand on the back of Lister’s neck and pushed him down, until his forehead was resting on the rug, his bottom high in the air.  Again, Lister felt a tremor of shame at what he was doing, but Rimmer was stroking his back steadily, calming and stimulating him simultaneously.  “Mmm,” Rimmer murmured, lazily cupping his balls, “You’re definitely a tomcat.”  Lister swallowed hard at the feel of Rimmer’s hands on him.  This was torture.  This was bliss.  “You don’t know,” Rimmer told him throatily, “How I’ve dreamed of this moment.  Seeing you like this, having you like this, is so exquisite.”  Lister didn’t know if he should respond or not.  He was a mess.  He was desperately horny, totally lost and all he wanted was for Rimmer to fuck him now, but he had a strong feeling this wasn’t over yet.

            Rimmer’s hands squeezed his buttocks, “But of course,” he said, “We mustn’t forget our training.  And I seem to remember a certain kitty being rather badly behaved over dinner.”  _Oh god_ , Lister squeezed his eyes shut, _here it comes_.  “Maybe a short sharp spanking will teach you to remember your manners.” Rimmer continued, still caressing his bottom.  “Yes, Sir,” Lister managed to breathe through gritted teeth.  _Do it_ , he thought frantically, _just get it over with_.

            The first smack made him jump, but it wasn’t that hard.  His skin came alive with a fascinating tingle and he wriggled, surprised.  After Rimmer had smacked him a few times, the tingle became a slowly spreading warmth that crept across his skin.  He felt Rimmer’s other hand slide between his legs and curl around his cock, squeezing and releasing him gently in time with the slaps.  He moaned, his hips pivoting restlessly as he tried to receive more stimulation, on his ass, on his cock, anywhere.  Eventually, oh so slowly, his increasingly sensitive cock began to throb at Rimmer’s touch and he only realised once it was too late, that because of the ridiculous and humiliating position Rimmer had forced him into, he was going to come in his own face.

            He would have crumpled in a heap on the floor, but Rimmer’s hands lifted him and set him back on his haunches, panting.  “Now,” Rimmer said tenderly, gently wiping the stickiness from his face with a corner of his discarded shirt, “That’s not a lesson you’ll forget in a hurry, is it?”

“No Sir,” Lister managed to gasp out with some feeling.  Rimmer held his face and kissed him, his tongue exploring him deeply.  Lister leaned forward into the kiss, his hands still tied tight behind him.  “Now that you’ve learnt your lesson,” Rimmer whispered to him, “I’m going to give you a reward.”  He unbuttoned his trousers and eased his cock out, “I’m going to let you suck me.”  It was easier in this position, Lister found, as he bent over Rimmer’s lap.  He could manage the length of it far more easily and even take it in deeper if he breathed carefully.  And of course this time, when Rimmer’s come erupted into his mouth in an explosion of fizzing electricity, it didn’t take him by surprise and he managed to ride the sensation out, getting in a few last good licks to finish the job properly.

            When Rimmer slid contentedly out of his mouth, he poured another glass of champagne and held it to Lister’s lips, letting him sip from it.  After the nectar of Rimmer’s come, the tingling bubbles on his tongue felt like nothing.  He rested his head against Rimmer’s knee as they both struggled to catch their breath.  Lister felt like he’d run up an Alp.  His breathing was ragged, his muscles quivering.  Perhaps, he mused grudgingly, Rimmer had been right about the need for a personal trainer.

            After a few minutes, Rimmer picked him up – smeg but the man was so strong – and carried him into the bedroom.  He lay Lister down on the quilt, hands still bound, and walked out.  “Hey,” Lister protested softly.  Rimmer didn’t honestly expect him to sleep like this, did he?  Rimmer returned a few seconds later, carrying the ice bucket, now empty of champagne.  Lister’s eyes widened as Rimmer reached in and withdrew a large wet ice-cube.  He looked down and saw Rimmer’s cock was, once again, hard as a diamond.  Rimmer took in Lister’s expression and smiled wickedly, “What?” he said mockingly, “You didn’t really think we were done here, did you?”


	21. Chapter 21

Lister spent a long time soaking in the tub the next morning.  His muscles were aching and other more intimate parts of him were, if not sore, then definitely downright sensitive.  Rimmer had wandered into the bathroom a little while ago to shower and they’d watched each other bathing with a kind of detached fascination.  When Rimmer had stepped dripping from the shower, he’d bent over to give Lister a kiss on the nose.  “You’ve been in here a long time.  Getting comfortable, are we?”

“Hey,” Lister said with a grin, “Practically home from home this place now.  Except I don’t normally have baths at mine.  You end up with a queue of the other guys in the dorm banging on the door.” He pulled a face, “Besides, the state of that tub is pretty disgusting.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rimmer remarked, wrinkling his nose.

“Give me a few more minutes.”

“Okay.  But remember,” Rimmer trailed his fingers through Lister’s wet curls, “You can’t wash away sin, baby.”

            Lister pondered this as Rimmer closed the bathroom door behind him.  Did he feel sinful?  And, more to the point, _should_ he?  The sex had certainly been unlike anything he’d ever done before.  Rimmer had told him at one point over dinner last night that, despite what he might expect, being a submissive could actually be a very liberating experience.  “When you relinquish control,” he’d said, “You relinquish guilt.  Responsibility.  You won’t have to think anymore about whether something is right or wrong, whether you should or shouldn’t do something.  Once you place your trust in me and give me total power over you, all of that becomes my problem.  You just have to relax and do as you’re told.  You just have to let go.”  Lister hadn’t really understood what he’d meant at the time, but after last night it was clearer to him.

            Rimmer had done things to him in this hotel room that he would never normally have allowed another person to do, but he had tolerated it and – ultimately - enjoyed it, because it had all felt so...inevitable.  Just having his hands pinned behind him had changed everything.  He knew he _could_ have said no, he _could_ have used one of the ‘safe words’ stipulated in the contract and made him stop, but he did genuinely want to please and satisfy Rimmer.  And once he was alone with him, tied up and naked, it was so much easier to run with things than it was to worry about it.  This morning he felt perhaps a little embarrassed, but not actually ashamed.  He thought of some of the devices waiting for him back on Jupiter in Rimmer’s playroom.  If having his hands tied behind his back could blow away so many inhibitions, what would he be willing to submit to when he was subjected to _real_ bondage and truly helpless? 

            When he emerged from the bathroom there were new clothes waiting for him on the bed.  He sighed.  Another test.  _Just think of it as a uniform_ , his subconscious piped up helpfully _, it’s all part of the job of being_ _Arnold_ _Rimmer’s submissive._   He put the clothes on and joined Rimmer in the main room of the suite.

            Rimmer glanced up from his cup of tea and smiled when he saw Lister was dressed in his new outfit.  “That shirt looks lovely on you,” he commented.  Lister didn’t rise to it.  “Thank you,” he said simply and sat down.  Rimmer pushed a breakfast tray towards him; toast and another damn grapefruit.  “Pass the sugar, please,” he said brightly.  

Rimmer smiled indulgently and obliged, “Not too much,” he warned pointedly.

“Yes, sir,” Lister smiled sweetly.  _See, I can do this. I can be submissive._   Rimmer beamed approvingly.  

“I’m taking you back to Jupiter with me today.  I have meetings scheduled for you with my personal trainer and dietician.  They’ll be working out a fitness and nutrition plan for you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister said again, with less enthusiasm.

“And then you will be accompanying me to a party tonight.”

“A party?”  Lister paused in the middle of sucking sticky grapefruit juice from his fingers and looked at Rimmer nervously.

“Yes.  It’s a business thing.  There’ll be a lot of important people there so I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

“I’ve never been to a posh party before.  What do I have to do?”

“What you’re told,” Rimmer replied succinctly.  

            Lister went back to his breakfast but suddenly he wasn’t particularly hungry.  He’d been so excited about this weekend and now it seemed all he had to look forward to was a day of being poked and prodded by doctors and then sneered at by rich people.  Rimmer obviously saw the trepidation in his face, “Don’t worry about it,” he told him, more kindly, “I’ll take care of you.  It will be fine.  You might even enjoy it.”

“Yes, sir,” Lister said glumly.  Rimmer studied his face carefully,

“How are you this morning?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not in any pain?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?  You withstood rather a lot last night.”  Lister smiled quietly, feeling rather proud of himself.  It _had_ gone on for hours - he’d almost lost count of the number of times Rimmer had come last night.  “I’m fine,” he insisted, “Everything feels a little...strange and a bit sensitive but it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Good.  I’ll go easy on you over the next couple of days.”

“You don’t have to.”

            Rimmer chuckled and stood up, giving the top of Lister’s head a kiss as he left the table, “Don’t you worry, miladdo, I won’t be neglecting you.  But I do think that beautiful backside of yours is going to need to be treated delicately for a few days.  After all, I don’t want any harm to come to my pet, do I?”

“No, sir,” Lister agreed, smiling.

“You finish your breakfast.  We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

 

            The trip back to Jupiter was enjoyable enough, but the fun stopped once they reached Rimmer Central.  On landing, Rimmer presented him with a bag full of designer gym-wear and told him to get changed.  The trainers Lister pulled out of the bag would have cost more than he earned at the bar in a year.  When he was appropriately dressed, Rimmer marched him down to the lower level of the penthouse.  His personal trainer was everything he’d dreaded.  Moreton was tanned, toned, Californian and well over 6 feet tall.  Lister hated him on sight.  He regarded Lister with a wide, white-toothed smile, “Well, well, this must be David.”

“Indeed it is.  Say hello, David.”

“Hello,” Lister said flatly.

“We’re just going to run through some exercises today and try and work out where you are with your fitness level and how best to proceed.  Is that ok with you?”

“That’s fine,” Rimmer replied for him.  He put a hand on Lister’s back and pushed him firmly forward, “He’s all yours for ninety minutes, Moreton.  After that he has an appointment with Drusilla.”

“Very good, Mister Rimmer.  I’ll see he’s ready in time.”

“Remember,” Rimmer remarked as he turned to leave, “I’m looking for stamina, not bulk.”

            Lister’s fitness level, it turned out, was zero.  At least in Moreton’s eyes.  The exercises were torturous.  “Listen, man” he protested finally, puffing away on the steepest incline setting on the treadmill, “I’m really not at my best today.  I did several hours of very intense exercise late last night and I’m already tired and achy.”

“That explains your muscle underperformance,” Moreton told him sternly, “Not why you’re wheezing like a leaky bagpipe.  How many cigarettes do you smoke a day?”

“Only two or three!”

“That needs to stop.  You’re lung capacity is pathetic.  Your muscle structure is naturally quite good but hopelessly under-developed.  You need some exercises to build them both up.  I want you to be able to do an hour on this thing without breaking a sweat by the time four weeks are up.”

“An hour?” Lister repeated stupidly, “In four weeks time?”

“You can do it.  Now go shower while I write out a programme for you.”

            Drusilla was, if not as sadistic, then at least as scathing.  “You know,” she said, “You’re not going to be twenty forever.  A take-away curry now and then makes a nice treat but it shouldn’t form the backbone of one’s diet.  You need to put away a lot more fruit and vegetables, young man.”

“If one puts curry powder on one’s fruit and vegetables, is that an acceptable compromise?” Lister asked haughtily.  Drusilla laughed.  Lister hadn’t been joking.

After the sessions were over, Rimmer re-materialised to take Lister back upstairs.  He also took copies of the two programmes he was clutching - “So I can check you’re sticking to it.”

“Moreton wants me to quit smoking,” Lister grumbled in the lift.

“So do I,” Rimmer told him briskly.

“I can’t just stop,” Lister protested, “I’ll go mental.”

“You can have one a day,” Rimmer told him, “You’ll never quit if you don’t start cutting down.  Have you showered?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  I’ll have Mrs Jones make you a snack and then we can get ready to go out.”

“Mrs Jones?”

“My housekeeper.  She keeps the place clean, cooks the occasional meal, keeps the fridge stocked.  That kind of thing.”

“What are you going to tell her about me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how are you going to explain me being here every weekend?”

“Oh, that.  Don’t worry, she signed an NDA when I employed her.  She knows all about you.”

“What?!  You mean she knows about...everything?  About the contract, the _playroom_?”

“I’d say so, seeing as she cleans it.”

“Get outta town!” Lister had thought nothing else about this situation could shock him but he’d been wrong.

“She’s quite a remarkable woman.  And very open-minded.”

“She must be!  I mean, holy smeg,” Lister remarked.

            Back in the apartment, Rimmer took his hand and led him into the kitchen.  A mumsy-looking middle aged lady was wiping down the surfaces.  “Mrs Jones, how are you?” Rimmer said cordially.  She looked up with a bright smile, 

“Very well, Mister Rimmer.  And you must be the new sub I’ve heard so much about!” She smiled warmly at Lister who blushed all over.

“Hi,” he said in a small voice.  He wasn’t sure how he could function around this woman with her knowing exactly what he’d be getting up to in that room down the hall.  It felt horrifically like the time his gran had walked in on him masturbating.  This nice lady should surely not be privy to such things.  

“Can you make David something light to eat, please?” Rimmer asked her.  Lister had never heard him speak to an employee with such courtesy, but he appeared genuinely fond of this woman.  

“Of course, it would be my pleasure!” she said, “Come here, sit down, dear.  What would you like?”  Lister opened his mouth to reply but Rimmer stepped forward and handed her the diet programme, 

“Here’s the plan.  Make sure he doesn’t cheat.”

“Very well.  A nice sandwich it is then,” she winked at Lister confidentially when Rimmer’s back was turned.  “I’m going to make some phone calls,” Rimmer said, “You enjoy your sandwich then go to your room and wait for me there.”

“Yes, sir,” Lister replied, cringing inwardly at saying the words in front of Mrs Jones.

            When Rimmer left the room she patted one of the stools at the kitchen counter and Lister sat down shyly.  She looked over the diet plan and tutted impatiently, “Honestly!  As if a strapping young thing like you needs to worry about what you eat.  Don’t you worry, my dear, you won’t go hungry while I’m around.  What’s your favourite food?”

“Curry,” Lister said immediately.

“Curry?  Well then, I think a batch of my famous coronation chicken will do the job nicely.”  She threw open the fridge and set to work.  Lister decided he was going to like Mrs Jones. 


	22. Chapter 22

            After a truly delicious sandwich courtesy of Mrs Jones, Lister retreated to his room to brush his teeth and take another quick shower while he waited for Rimmer.  When he emerged from the bathroom, Rimmer was sitting at the foot of his bed.  “You’ve certainly worked your magic on my housekeeper,” he said, his eyes moving appreciatively over Lister’s naked body.

“Have I?” Lister asked blankly.

“She’s just been in my office.  First she wanted my absolute assurance that you were over the age of consent, which I gave her.  Then she told me in the strongest possible terms that I was to take good care of ‘that sweet young man’.  I told her I had every intention of doing so.”  Lister was genuinely surprised; how many employees would have the nerve to harangue Arnold Rimmer in his own home?

“I’m curious,” he raised an eyebrow, “Considering what I’ve signed up for, what would constitute as ‘good care’?  Has she set a limit on how hard you’re allowed to beat me?”

“I think she just wanted to be certain I wasn’t going to throw you in at the deep end without warning.  She may look like your traditional Stepford Wife, but she’s worked for me a long time and she’s a shrewd lady.  She can tell you’re not like the others who’ve been through here.” 

Lister felt a pang of self-conscious doubt.  Was it really that obvious?  Did he really come across as some hapless kid with no idea what he was letting himself in for?  “Did you tell her that underneath this innocent-looking exterior I’m actually a hardcore, filthy, fucked-up pain-slut?” he asked sweetly.

“My, my,” Rimmer’s eyebrows shot up, but his eyes twinkled with pleasure, “Where did you learn language like that?”

“You told me to do some research,” Lister responded archly.

“As it happens, that’s not what I told her, no.”  Rimmer seemed amused, “But I certainly liked hearing you say it.”  Lister smiled smugly.  “Who knows, by the time our three months together are up,” Rimmer pondered, “It might even be true.”  Now it was Lister’s turn to look surprised.  That was an outcome he hadn’t considered.

“You’re distracting me,” Rimmer continued, “I almost forgot why I came in here.  I wanted a little moment with you before you got dressed and as you are standing in front of me without a stitch on, it seems you were on my wavelength.”

“See?” Lister teased, “I’m already attuned to your desires.”

“Do you know what I want you to do right now?” Rimmer asked him pointedly.  Lister swallowed hard,

“To go to the playroom?”

“No.  There’s no time for that this evening.  Guess again.”

“Do you want me to get down on my knees and suck you?” Lister asked hopefully.  He liked this game.

“Mmmm,” Rimmer replied, “Tempting.  But, lovely as it would be to fuck that gorgeous mouth of yours right now, that’s not what I have in mind.  You see that chair by the dresser?  I want you to pull it out.”

            Lister, surprised and intrigued, obeyed.  “And now, I want you to bend over the back of it and place your hands flat on the seat.  And I want you to keep your head down and not look up until I say.”  Lister bent over the thickly padded velvet upholstery and waited, alive with curiosity and excitement.  He heard the rustle of fabric as Rimmer stood up, then the cool touch of his hands over his hips and down his thighs.  “Spread your legs for me.  Just a little.”  Lister eagerly complied.  God, if someone had told him just a few weeks ago that he’d be doing this, and doing it so willingly, he’d have never believed it.  He was already hard with anticipation.  He felt the slickness of lubricant being spread over the crease of his ass and murmured with delighted pleasure, and then in reward felt the nudge of something at his entrance.  “Just relax for me, Dave,” Rimmer coaxed soothingly as the object slid up deep inside him.  He gasped.  He’d been expecting Rimmer’s cock but this was something else.  Something smaller and oddly shaped.  Rimmer kissed the back of his neck and Lister suddenly felt his hands again, and the sudden pressure of straps pulling snugly around his hips and thighs.

            A strap-on.  Rimmer had strapped a dildo into him.  “Now stand up for me.  Slowly.”  Cautiously, Lister pushed himself upright.  The dildo flexed inside him, nudging his prostate and he gasped.  He was already tender from Rimmer’s prolonged fucking of him the night before and his ass, although not painful, was exquisitely sensitive.  “How does that feel?” Rimmer asked.

“Strange,” Lister confessed honestly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.  It feels...good.  But weird.”

“Okay, then.  I want you to get dressed now.”

“What???”

“You’re going to wear this for me tonight.  Under your clothes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding...”

“Not even a little.  I can’t fuck you tonight, it would be too much for your body and it would hurt you, so you’re going to wear this instead.  To remind you that you belong to me, that all of you belongs to me.  Understand?”

“I can’t,” Lister pleaded, “Not all night.  I can’t do it...”

“Yes, you can.  And you will.  Because you want to please me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered hopelessly.  Inside, he was a wreck.  Smeg, how was he going to manage this?  He was already so raw, just the feel of the dildo inside him was probably enough to bring him off; and he was already so _nervous_.  How could he stand this all night long?  How could he act like everything was normal?

Rimmer retrieved a new suit from the wardrobe, less formal than the tux he’d worn the night before.  “Here.  Put this on.  I want you to be ready to go in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Lister replied miserably.  Rimmer cupped his jaw in one hand and gave him a kiss. 

“Smile, baby,” he said happily, “It’s going to be fun.”

 

            When Lister joined Rimmer in the sitting room a few minutes later, he looked him up and down critically.  “Very nice,” he said finally, “You know I think this look works better on you than the tux.”

“I think so too,” Lister said.  He liked this suit.  It was more comfortable than the black tie ensemble and the dark charcoal grey material was wonderfully soft to touch.  He didn’t dare ask what it was made of.  Probably the product of some alpaca/silkworm genetic mutation that Rimmer had developed especially to make clothes from. 

Rimmer beckoned him and he crossed the room to stand in front of him, trying to keep his expression neutral.  Every movement he made caused the dildo to rub gently but persistently against his prostate, sending tremors of sweet agony through him.  “Now listen,” Rimmer said seriously, “As far as the people we’re going to be spending time with tonight are aware, I don’t get involved with anyone.  I’d like to maintain that illusion if possible.  So tonight, you’re just a student I’ve taken under my wing, who’s interested in joining the company.  Is that clear?”

“Oh.  Okay,” Lister agreed, crestfallen.  This party was sounding less appealing by the minute.  How could Rimmer subject him to this and then have the nerve to spend all evening treating him like he was a stranger?

“Behave yourself,” Rimmer told him, “And stop pouting.”

“I am not pouting.”

“Pouting _and_ arguing,” Rimmer arched an eyebrow, “I wonder if you need a little lesson in manners before we go out.”

“Please don’t spank me,” Lister said, “It’s going to be hard enough sitting down as it is.”

“I never said being my sub was going to be easy, David.”

“No, but you did say tonight was going to be fun.  So far I fail to see how.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Rimmer said, “Come on, Taylor is waiting for us.”

 

            The car ride was a nightmare.  Every soft bump and vibration of the car made Lister squirm and Rimmer, obviously enjoying his discomfort, wouldn’t leave him alone.  “Do we have to go through with this?” he whined eventually, “Wouldn’t you rather spend the evening at yours?  You haven’t shown me the playroom properly yet...”

“All in good time, David, all in good time.  Trust me, you’re going to spend plenty of time in the playroom over the next three months.  This is all part of your training.”

            After a while, the limo drew up outside a country house hotel on the outskirts of the city.  Taylor dropped them off outside and they followed the signs and strings of fairy lights through to the gardens.  Two large marquees were set out on the wide lawns.  White suited waiters carrying drinks and canapés were weaving amongst the party guests.  Lister swallowed hard.  This was everything he’d feared.  Rimmer nudged him, “Come on, let’s go join the action.”

“Hooray.”

“Don’t look so miserable.  Chin up.”

“It’s not my chin I’m worried about,” Lister muttered.  Rimmer laughed.

            The moment they stepped inside the main marquee, a waiter appeared before them with a tray of champagne.  Rimmer took a glass and Lister followed suit.  He sipped at it and tried not to pull a face.  He really didn’t like champagne.  Rimmer had already been accosted by an impossibly posh, floppy-haired man and was exchanging pleasantries and business figures that meant absolutely nothing to Lister.  It took the man a few minutes to either notice or acknowledge Lister’s presence.

“And who is this, Arnold?  Introduce us.”

“Marcus Aldridge, this is David Lister.  He’s a student engineer at Saturn Tech and he’s thinking of taking an internship with us.  At least, that’s what I’m trying to persuade him to do.”

“Ah-ha!  Grooming the young lad up for a place at Rimmer Inc, I see,” he replied jollily. 

“Grooming,” Lister chimed in brightly, “That’s a good word for it.”

“Must be a bright spark,” the man continued, completely missing the edge in Lister’s voice and apparently forgetting he was still standing there, “For you to take such a personal interest in his career development.”

“Yes,” Rimmer said, “Mr Lister has plenty of spark, no doubt about that.”  He fixed Lister with a stern look that told him he hadn’t missed the double entendre at all.  Lister smirked and sipped his drink.

            Rimmer took his elbow and guided him away firmly, “I thought I told you to behave yourself,” he murmured.

“I am behaving myself.  I didn’t call that guy a pompous prick.”

“Get used to it, there’s bigger smegheads than Marcus Aldridge in this room.”

“Then why did you bring me here?”

“Because I’m grooming you,” Rimmer retorted with a brittle smile.

“Why don’t you just cut out the crap and introduce me to your friends as ‘Tiddles’?”

“These people aren’t my friends.  And you need to get a grip on yourself – I can still make time for the playroom when we get home if you make me cross.”

“Forget the party, let’s make time now.”

“Don’t be so eager.  Trust me, David, if you make me angry then what happens in that playroom tonight is not going to be anything you’ll enjoy.  Understood?”

            The sharp edge in Rimmer’s voice made Lister nervous suddenly.  His memory provided him with a very clear flashback of a rack full of whips, canes and other flogging devices which would, unquestionably, hurt.  He reined his temper back.  “Yes, sir.”

“That’s better.  Drink your drink, you’ll feel more relaxed.”

“I don’t like it.”

“What _would_ you like?”

“A lager?”

“Holding a can of lager in here would only make you feel more self-conscious.”

Lister opened his mouth to reply that a can of lager would probably make him a lot less self-conscious than the dildo currently shoved up his ass, but instead forced himself to hold back and take a deep swig of his drink.  It might not relax him, but it might just stop him saying something that he’d regret later.

           


	23. Chapter 23

It helped, Lister decided as the evening wore on, if he just said nothing at all.  No-one really seemed to expect him to speak and Rimmer answered most of the questions that were directed at him.  Aside from the odd ‘So, how do you like Saturn?’ and the ‘Studies going okay, are they?’ he mostly got by with a polite smile.  He started to wonder vaguely if this was how it felt to be a dog, sitting quietly by your master’s leg while the conversations went on above your head and occasionally getting the odd pat.

“See?” Rimmer said softly during a quiet moment as they watched a handful of couples swaying in a very civilised way to a bland jazz quartet, “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Oh, I’m just having a ball, man,” Lister replied through a wide forced smile.

“You know, this is just as hard for me as it is for you.”

“Hmm, I doubt that very much.”

“You have no idea how good you look in that suit.  Every time I see someone in this room checking you out, I want to throw you down on the floor and show them all who you belong to.”  Lister made himself breathe deeply.  He knew Rimmer was playing with him, trying to get him worked up.  Well, two could play at this game.

“That might cause a stir,” he replied nonchalantly.

“How about if I just took the suit off?” Rimmer continued in a whisper, “Stripped you down to your underpants so everyone could see what they’re missing?”

“You might find that tricky,” Lister said innocently.

“Why’s that?”  Lister faced him with a sweet smile,

 “Because I’m not wearing underpants,” he replied airily.  Rimmer’s eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

“I decided as I was _so_ uncomfortable already that it might be easier to just go commando.  Nothing under here but me and some rather tight leather straps,” Lister purred.  

                    The look on Rimmer’s face made the last few excruciating hours totally worth it.  “See,” Lister sipped his drink demurely, “you’re not the only one who can mess with people.”

“David Lister, you never cease to amaze me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Are you being serious?”

“As I’m just a promising young student you’ve taken under your wing and it would be highly inappropriate to be seen interfering with me in any way, it looks like you’re just going to have to wait until we get home to find out.”

“You little...”

“Arnold Rimmer, how have you been avoiding me all night?”

                     A middle-aged blonde woman in a stylish black dress was standing behind them with a predatory smile.  In her youth, Lister thought, she’d probably been stunning.  Now she was merely striking.  “Marlena,” Rimmer said, his voice coolly polite, “How nice to see you.  I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.”

“Oh, you know me,” she smiled, “A finger in every pie.”

“Of course.”  

“And who is your handsome friend?”

“This is David Lister,” Lister thought he detected an ounce of reluctance on Rimmer’s part to introduce them, “David, this is Marlena Vandoren.”  He held out his hand and was going to stick with the polite smile, but she held onto the hand and sidled up to him.  “It’s so _nice_ to see Arnold with a friend for once,” she said, “How do you two know each other?”

“He’s a student from Saturn Tech,” Rimmer said shortly.

“Arnold, where are your manners?  Let the boy talk.”

“I’m er...thinking about doing an internship,” Lister said uneasily, trying to remember the details of the cover story Rimmer had been telling all evening.

“Is that so?  In what?”

“Engineering.”

“Ohhh, how delightful.  It’s always a pleasure to meet a man who’s good with his hands.”  

Lister laughed nervously and looked at Rimmer for help.  “Honestly, Marlena, don’t embarrass him,” Rimmer scolded.

“Forgive me, my dear,” she squeezed Lister’s hand playfully, “I’ve spent my life as a shameless flirt and I’m too old to break the habit now.”

“Oh, you’re not old,” Lister said dutifully.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?  Come and have a dance with me.”

“Erm...” Lister glanced uncertainly at Rimmer, but she flipped a hand at him dismissively, “Oh Arnold’s a big boy, he can cope with standing on his own for a few minutes.  He’s certainly had a lot of practise.”

“Thank you, Marlena,” Rimmer smiled tightly.

“Come now, you’re not going to stop me having a dance with the youngest, most handsome man in the room, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rimmer said, his voice acidic.  

            Lister smiled as charmingly as he could, as the woman tugged him out onto the dance floor and wrapped her arms around him.  “How are you enjoying the party so far?” she asked warmly.

“It’s very nice,” Lister said diplomatically.

“Oh nonsense,” she smiled wickedly, “It’s a hideously dull, pretentious affair.”

“Well,” Lister admitted, with a small laugh, “It’s not exactly my scene.”

“Nor mine,” she said meaningfully, tossing a tendril of blonde hair back over her shoulder.  “You know, it’s very unusual to see Arnold with a companion,” she added, “You must be an exceptional... _engineer_.”  Lister felt an awkward blush climbing up his neck.  “Mr Rimmer’s certainly taken a strong interest in my career,” he said weakly.  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  “He must have,” she remarked, “I’ve certainly never known him bring a student to a party before.  In fact,” she said pointedly, “I’ve never known him bring _anyone_ to a party before.”

“Do you attend a lot of parties together?” 

“More than you might think,” she smiled secretively.

“So you know him very well?”

“I wouldn’t say that.  But better than most people in this room know him, I imagine,” she replied enigmatically, “How well do _you_ know him?” Her eyes searched his face for clues in the way a hawk would scan the forest floor for small mammals.

“Not that well,” Lister said vaguely, “We only met a few weeks ago.”

“You’ve obviously made quite an impression on him.”

            Lister wasn’t sure what to say.  This woman clearly suspected there was something more to their relationship, but why?  What was she trying to get out of him?  She quickly picked up on his unease, “Now, there’s no need to be modest,” she said, smiling, “If Arnold Rimmer has singled you out from the crowd I’m sure he has reasons.”  She shifted her body closer to Lister’s, “I’m sure he has _very_ good reasons,” she whispered.  Lister gulped softly.  “Tell me,” she cooed softly in his ear, “What exactly _is_ your scene, David?”

“You mean, music and stuff?” Lister asked nervously.

“Sure,” she replied playfully, “Why not?”

“Well...let’s just say it’s probably not the kind of stuff they’d play at a party like this,” he joked feebly.  

“And do you have a girlfriend back on Saturn?”

“No,” he felt his face reddening further, “Not exactly.”

“You surprise me.  A cute boy like you?”  

“I don’t have an awful lot of free time,” he said quickly.

“Surely some things are worth making time for?” she pressed her hips firmly against his.

Lister took a soft, sharp intake of breath.  When he’d left his underpants at home, he hadn’t been expecting this kind of close contact with an attractive older woman.  The warm press of her body against his front, combined with the ‘situation’ he was already struggling with, were combining to make him very horny indeed and he was struggling not to get an erection.  Marlena Vandoren was not a woman to miss such things.  He wondered for a second if she could feel the straps under the soft cloth of his trousers.  “It would be such a shame,” she continued, “if a young man of your age and... _talents_...was missing out on important life experiences because Arnold Rimmer was taking up all his time.”

“It’s not that bad,” Lister managed to squeak out, “He’s teaching me an awful lot.”  The woman looked him straight in the eye, 

“Is he?” she asked softly.  One of her hands moved lightly over his bottom and he made a small noise in his throat, which he managed – just – to turn into a polite cough.  

“You know,” he said, backing away firmly, “I should really be getting back to him.  I think there’s some more people he wants me to meet.”

“Of course,” she said graciously, “It would be selfish of me to keep you to myself all night.  Fun as that would be.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Lister gabbled, his face fixed in a polite smile.

“And you,” she raised an eyebrow, “Who knows, perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.”

            Lister hurried back to Rimmer, who was still standing on the sidelines with a put-upon expression.  “Just for the record,” Lister murmured under his breath, “That contract does state clearly that you’re not going to loan me out to anybody, right?”

“It does.  Don’t you worry, you’re safe.”

“What’s the deal with her?  Is she like that with all men?”

“Oh, she’s an incorrigible flirt and she’s been married four times but you’ll have got the special treatment.”

“Why exactly?”

“Because you’re exactly her type, that’s why.  Although, if anything, you’re probably a little old for her.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t think I’m joking.  The last boy I saw her with was an exotic looking young man named Jose and if he was a day over eighteen then I’m Alexander the Great.”

“And she brought him to a party like this?”

“No.  It was a party very much _unlike_ this.”  He looked at Lister’s blank expression, “Let’s just say Marlena and I share certain...interests.”

“Oh?  _Ohhhh_...”  Lister glanced back over his shoulder as the implication of what Rimmer was saying hit home.  “You mean...she knows?”

“She knows about me, she probably only suspects about you.  But it doesn’t matter, she’s not a threat.  I know too much about her, for a start.”

“So she has a playroom too?”

“Don’t you believe it,” Rimmer said, “That woman’s a cougar in every sense of the word.  What _she_ has is tantamount to a torture chamber.  She makes me look like St Francis of Assisi.”  _Smegging hell_.  Lister looked up at him, 

“Don’t leave me alone with her again, please.”

“It’s a deal.”

“So,” Lister asked coyly, “Have you two ever...?”

“No.  She’s suggested it occasionally, but I have no doubt that she’d want to do things on her terms and I have no interest in that.”

“No, you like to be the one making people scream.”

“Speaking of which,” Rimmer leaned in close to his ear, “I want you to go outside.  Go around to the back of the caterer’s marquee.  I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” Rimmer breathed.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

            Lister tiptoed around to the back of the smaller marquee and waited nervously in the shadows.  On the other side of the canvas he could hear voices and the clatter of plates, trays and cookware.  This didn’t feel like the most secluded spot for a meeting.  If someone found him, he couldn’t even claim he’d been looking for a quiet place to have a cigarette.  Rimmer had confiscated all his stash.

            After what felt like an hour, a tall dark shadow slipped around the corner and joined him.  There were no words at first, just fierce kisses that took his breath away and the scent of very familiar cologne on the night air.  One of Rimmer’s arms snaked around his buttocks and lifted him a few inches off the ground.  The movement deepened their kiss, and pressed the dildo further into Lister’s ass.  He gasped with pleasure - and amazement that this man was strong enough to lift him off the floor with one hand.

            When Rimmer set him down again, they were both panting.  “I wasn’t going to do this,” Rimmer whispered darkly, “but this is what you’ve driven me to.”

“What are you going to do?” Lister whispered back.  Rimmer put his arms around him and backed him up against the side of the tent.  “Reach up,” he ordered quietly, “And take hold of the ropes above your head.”  Obediently, Lister reached up and grasped the thick cables holding up the marquee.  “I want you to hold on and not move,” Rimmer ordered.  “Yes Sir,” Lister whispered, his heart pounding.  Rimmer knelt down on the grass in front of him and began to slowly undo his trousers.  “Now then,” he said throatily, “Let’s find out if you were telling the truth or if you’ve been playing games with me.”

            By the time his trousers dropped silently to the floor, Lister was already hard as stone.  “Oh Dave,” Rimmer breathed against his exposed cock, “You bad, _bad_ boy.”

“Hey,” Lister said, his voice trembling, “I just like to be comfortable.”

“Are you comfortable now?”

“No...” Lister replied cautiously, “I wouldn’t class this as comfortable.”

“How about now?”  Rimmer’s lips moved lightly up the shaft of his penis.  In the darkness, Lister could barely make out the movement of his head.  He thrust his hips forward instinctively and the dildo inside him probed his ass teasingly.  He moaned.  Rimmer stood up and kissed him slow and deep.  “Look at you,” he whispered, “Horny and half-naked in a dark corner of some garden.  Is this comfortable, Dave?”

“No,” he whimpered.

“You’re learning a valuable lesson tonight, baby,” Rimmer kissed his face and neck, lightly stroking his cock up and down and making him tremble with desire, “Don’t play games with me.  I will _always_ win.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So what do I do with you now?  That, as they say, is the real questeroonie.  I could tell you to pull your pants up and go back to the party...” Lister made a soft keening sound, “But I don’t think you’re in any state to make small talk.”

“No,” Lister agreed emphatically, “No state at all.”

“But you still need to be punished.”

“Yes.  Punished,” was all Lister could manage.

“So, we’re going to compromise a little,” Rimmer’s thumb circled the head of Lister’s cock.  “I’m going to get back down on my knees.  And I’m going to suck your cock.”

“Oh, yes...” Lister breathed ecstatically.  Rimmer hadn’t done this to him yet and he’d been wondering if he ever would.  “ _But_ ,” Rimmer added firmly, “There’s a catch.  You have to be quiet so the nice people don’t hear what we’re doing.  In fact, you have to be _silent_.  I’m going to tot up every tiny sound you make and for every gasp and squeak you utter, your sweet little backside is going to pay the price when we get home.  Every noise equals one stroke with the cane.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” At this point in time, Lister thought he probably would have agreed to anything if it meant feeling Arnold Rimmer’s mouth on his cock.  

“Alright then.  From this moment on,” He pressed a finger to Lister’s lips, “You zip it.”

            He knelt down and kissed Lister’s penis gently.  Lister closed his eyes.  Maybe if he couldn’t see what Rimmer was doing....  The hot warmth of a tongue lashed him and he whined softly.  “That’s one already,” Rimmer murmured, “Oh Dave, you’ll have to do better than that or your bottom is going to be very sore tomorrow.”  His fingers lightly traced the leather straps pressing tightly into Lister’s inner thighs as he sucked him firmly into his mouth. 

 

            “You know,” Rimmer mused in the limo on the way home, “Judging by your performance tonight, I may need to rethink my stance on gagging you.  You really cannot do quiet sex at all, can you?”

“Hey,” Lister protested weakly.  He was lying across the seat with his head in Rimmer’s lap, “It’s not like we got caught.  Nobody actually heard us.”

“Heard _you_ , you mean.”

“You had your mouth full.  I’d call that an unfair advantage.”  Lister didn’t point out that _he_ had also had his ass full, which had turned out to be a significant _dis_ advantage.  He’d had plenty of blow jobs before, but never with the added stimulus of a dildo included in the equation.  It wasn’t quite on the same level as having Rimmer come inside him – nothing was ever going to be on the same level as that experience – but it had certainly made his eventual orgasm that little bit more interesting.  It had been a little while before he could pick himself up off the floor.  And Rimmer still hadn’t let him take the damn thing off, although it was annoying now more than anything else.

“Well, you just remember,” Rimmer was stroking his head gently, “This isn’t over yet.  You still have to live up to your half of the bargain.”

“Yes, I know.  Thanks for reminding me.”

“And how many strokes is it I owe you?” Rimmer asked gleefully.

“You lost count at fifteen,” Lister replied glumly.

“That’s right, I did.  How lucky for you.”

“Yay me,” Lister remarked bitterly.  The sarcasm was a shield.  He was actually dreading this and he didn’t want Rimmer to know how much.  The spanking last night hadn’t been too bad, he could handle that.  But caning?  A particularly unpleasant warden at the orphanage had given Lister a wallop with the handle of a broom once and even with the healing passage of time soothing the memory, Lister remembered well enough that it had hurt.

            When they got back to the hub, Lister was relieved to find the penthouse dark and empty.  The last thing he needed was the knowledge that Mrs Jones was happily ironing just down the hall while he was being subjected to some tough love in the playroom.  Rimmer trailed kisses up the side of his neck.  “I’m going to go fix a drink.  I want you to go to the playroom, take off your clothes and wait for me at the foot of the bed.  On your knees.  Do you understand?”

“Can I take off the strap-on too?” he asked in a small voice.  Rimmer gently bit his ear.

“No.”

            

Lister hesitated for a moment outside the playroom, his hand hovering on the door handle.  Maybe this time, he told himself, it wouldn’t seem so bad.  Now that he knew what was behind this door, now that the shock had abated and he was – let’s face it – a part of this strange world, perhaps it wouldn’t be so frightening.  He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and looked around.

            He took it all in; the décor, the furniture, the accessories.  His gaze lingered on what appeared to be a large wooden X nailed to one wall, with restraints hanging from each corner.  That was new.  Rimmer must have had it installed especially for him.  How sweet.  He sighed deeply.  Nope.  Now matter how hard he tried, this room still freaked fifty shades of smeg out of him.  He undressed and placed his clothes on a chair by the door.  It wasn’t an ordinary chair, but Lister couldn’t bring himself to examine it too closely right now.  He crossed the room, surprised that the stone floor didn’t chill his bare feet.  He should have guessed there would be under-floor heating, Rimmer wouldn’t want to be cold in a room where he spent so much time naked.  He knelt down on the rug and waited nervously.

            Rimmer joined him a minute or so later, holding a glass of scotch.  He was still dressed in his suit, but he’d loosened his tie and his curls were slightly ruffled.  He approached slowly, obviously savouring the sight of Lister waiting for him.  When he finally stood over him, he reached down to cup his jaw and tilted his face up towards him.  “Here we are at last,” he said softly, “Welcome to my lair.”  He took a deep sip of scotch.  “I wonder if you realise how exciting it is for me just to see you naked in this room.  I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for this.”  Lister kissed his hand.  Maybe if he played the good little subservient slave convincingly enough now, Rimmer might go easy on him.  “Stand up,” Rimmer said.  Lister climbed nervously to his feet.  What now?  How was this going to happen?  Rimmer took his hand and led him across the room.  He stopped in front of one of the devices.  It was a heavy dark wooden bench about waist high, the top of it padded with red leather.  Restraints hung from underneath.  

Lister glanced at Rimmer nervously.  _Really?_ \- he tried to say with his expression.  Rimmer just smiled, “Bend over, baby,” he said.  Uncertainly, Lister did as he was told and bent lengthways across the bench.  He heard a small clink as Rimmer set his glass down on the floor and then something slid around his left ankle.  He was startled for a second, then he realised that Rimmer was attaching the cuffs on either leg of the bench to him, binding him in place and holding his own legs apart.  The realisation did not reassure him.  “Now put your hands together underneath,” Rimmer ordered.  Lister complied and Rimmer swiftly manacled his wrists together beneath him, leaving him strapped down and helpless.  He pressed his forehead into the soft red leather, breathed its musky scent and closed his eyes.  This wasn’t uncomfortable but he could barely move at all.  He was – completely – at Rimmer’s mercy.  _This is what you agreed to,_ his subconscious reminded him.  _You gave yourself to him, now you find out what that really means._

“Now then,” Rimmer circled him, “Let us look back over your first day as my sub.  We started so well, didn’t we?  You wore all your nice new clothes without making a fuss.  You played nicely with Moreton and Drusilla.”  He ran a finger along Lister’s spine and down between his buttocks, pressing gently on the base of the dildo still deep inside him and making him whine softly.  “You let me put this inside you and wore it for me all night.  I know that wasn’t easy and I’m very proud of you.”

“Yeah, cheers,” Lister replied edgily.

“But...” Rimmer continued regretfully, “You played a very unsporting trick on me by coming out without your underwear and making me unacceptably horny in a room full of my peers.  That was very naughty of you.  And, as we already discussed, you didn’t do as you were told and keep your mouth shut while I sucked you off in the garden.  So now we have to deal with those little issues.  Are you ready to accept your punishment, David?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister replied miserably.

“Are you going to try playing any tricks on me again?”

“No, Sir.”

“Are you going to try and keep quiet next time I’m making you come in a public place?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister said, thinking - _Next time???_

“Good boy.”

            Rimmer went to the rack on the wall and Lister turned his head to one side to watch him anxiously.  “Let me see...I think this will be sufficient to punish your little indiscretions today.”  He picked up a small leather-covered paddle.

“That’s it?” Lister blurted out, “I thought you were going to cane me?!”

“Not yet,” Rimmer replied, walking back to him with a smile that Lister wanted to slap and kiss at the same time.  “You’re not ready for that yet.  But I thought it might do you good to think about it on the journey home.  And I was curious to see if you would try and wriggle out of it.”

“Is that still an option?”

“No, Dave,” Rimmer bent over him and dotted little kisses down his naked back, “It is not.  But don’t worry, I think you’re going to enjoy this.”

“That’s what you said about the party,” Lister replied sardonically.

“Backchat, Listy?  Really?  In your position?  You know I can always change my mind about using the cane.”  _Yikes_.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Of course you are.  Besides, you seemed to be enjoying the party very much when I had your cock in my mouth.  You liked that part, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister agreed, a little more enthusiastically, wondering if a repeat was on the cards.  

“Let’s see how you like this,” Rimmer said darkly.

            Lister braced himself, waiting for the first blow.  It didn’t come.  Instead, something even more shocking happened.  The dildo in his ass began to vibrate firmly.  He yelped loudly and heard Rimmer chuckle.  “Smegging hell!” he gasped out.  He squirmed wildly but between the straps holding him to the bench and the straps holding the dildo inside him, there was no way to escape the sensation.  He moaned helplessly.  He’d thought after the marathon last night and the antics this evening that his body had nothing left to give but already his cock was on end and his backside, super-sensitised after everything it had already been through in the last twenty-four hours, was throbbing with pleasure so deep it was almost pain.  

“I’ve had that little trick up my sleeve all evening,” Rimmer said smugly, “Do you know how tempting it was to set this thing going while you were cosied up to Marlena Vandoren on the dancefloor?  My, that would have been interesting to watch.”

“Arnold,” he said desperately, “I mean, Sir!  Please!”

“I told you tonight was hard for me.  It was bad enough just knowing that you were wearing that thing.  Knowing that I could have made you drop to your knees and come in front of the whole room at any moment, just at the press of a button, I’ll let you imagine how that was.”

“Please!” Lister begged again, “I can’t take it.”

“Oh, I think you can.  I think you can certainly take it long enough for me to dish out your fifteen strokes for misbehaving.”  Lister moaned and Rimmer gently stroked the back of his neck.  “I’m going to punish you now.  This is going to hurt more than the spanking.  Remember the safety words we agreed in the contract?”

“Yes,” Lister moaned.

“If you’re uncomfortable then you say ‘yellow’,” Rimmer re-iterated, “If it’s too much, if you can’t take any more and you want me to stop immediately and let you up, then you say ‘red’.  Is that clear?”

“Yes!  Yes, for smeg’s sake!  Just do it!  Please, please, please...”

“Okay, Dave,” Rimmer kissed the back of his neck and moved down to the end of the bench, “This,” he said lovingly, “Is because you’ve been a very naughty boy.”

            Lister barely even felt the first blow.  His brain was far too preoccupied with what was happening elsewhere in his body.  In fact, it was only on the fourth or fifth stroke that he began to feel something akin to the warm glow he’d felt across his skin when Rimmer had spanked him.  The paddle wasn’t that much harder than Rimmer’s hard-light palm, but it sent more of a jolt through his body when it connected, instantly magnifying every other sensation he was enduring.  He didn’t bother trying to keep count, he was no longer capable of the cognitive power required for such a task.  All he knew was that his body was throbbing on the inside and the outside and there seemed to be no limit to what he was feeling.  The rhythmic impact of the paddle, the endless vibrations, all of it seemed to be thrumming through every part of him; and Rimmer was the one doing it all.  Rimmer had, quite literally, taken control of his body and was playing it like a harp, plucking every string he had.

            He didn’t know how long he lasted, or if Rimmer actually gave him all fifteen strokes.  All he knew was that at some point his pelvic muscles caught fire and the top of his head blew off in a haze of white light.  That, he thought, as he lay dazed and breathless across the bench trying to remember how to breathe, must have been an orgasm.  He didn’t know how else to classify it unless it was a brain embolism, and he still appeared to be alive.  Rimmer leaned over him, stroking his hair tenderly, “How was that, baby?” he asked playfully.

“Wow,” was all Lister could manage in response, “Oh, wow...”

            


	25. Chapter 25

            The next morning Lister reached blearily for his phone on the nightstand and checked the time through slitted, puffy eyes.  10.45am.  He dropped it and huddled back down under the covers with a deep groan.  How could he have slept for nearly ten hours in a bed this comfortable and still feel wrecked?  He knew he’d put his body through a lot this weekend, with the sex and the gym workout and the sex and...oh yes, more sex, but he was twenty years old for smeg’s sake.  Much as he hated to admit it, maybe Moreton had been right and he wasn’t quite the lithe young tiger he’d considered himself to be.  Dammit.

            He kicked the covers back, his thigh muscles twinging, and sat up.  His pelvic muscles were quivering like a hummingbird’s wings.  He looked sadly at the neat empty space on the other side of the bed.  While he hadn’t expected anything else, it didn’t stop him hoping.  He allowed himself to dream for a moment about how it would be to wake up nestled against that strong broad back; those soft rebellious curls mussed up and tickling his nose and the smell of that cologne over everything – including him.  _Never going to happen_ , his subconscious chanted tauntingly, _You can dream all you like, but you’ll never be his boyfriend.  You’ll never be more than a sex toy._   Lister stood up, wincing as he did so, and went to have a shower; pretending he didn’t care what he thought, even if he _was_ him.

            He checked himself over briefly in the full length mirror in the bathroom.  Despite the aches and pains, there wasn’t a mark anywhere on him.  He’d half expected faint bruises where Rimmer had used the paddle on him last night but his buttocks were rosy and unblemished.  Rimmer obviously knew what he was doing, he mused.  There was something both reassuring and slightly annoying about that.

            When he crept quietly into the kitchen once he was clean and dressed, he found Rimmer sitting at the counter scrolling nonchalantly through his emails.  Mrs Jones was behind him at the stove.  There was a promising smell of bacon in the air.  They both looked up to greet him at the same time.  “Good morning, David,” Mrs Jones smiled.  

“Morning,” Lister replied.  Even after his shower, he still sounded lost and sleepy.  Rimmer regarded him with obvious amusement, 

“Are you actually up or are you just sleepwalking?” he asked.

“Sleepwalking,” Lister said, sliding stiffly onto the stool next to him.  Rimmer looked him over, obviously noting his less than agile movements.  

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked with a hint of concern.  Lister saw Mrs Jones switch her attention away from the cooking for a moment to gauge his response.  

“I’m okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, “Just tired and a bit groggy.”

“We’ll take it easy today,” Rimmer patted his hand gently, “I’ll get my masseuse to give you a going over after breakfast.  Then I thought I might take you out somewhere nice this afternoon before you have to go back to Saturn.”

“Not another party?” Lister asked warily.  Rimmer smiled,

“No,” he said, “Somewhere with just the two of us.  Mrs Jones will make a picnic.”

“That sounds great,” Lister said and he meant it.  

            “How hungry are you, dear?” Mrs Jones asked.

“I probably couldn’t eat a whole horse,” Lister replied cheerfully, “But I’d give it a try.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said, loading up a plate and setting it down in front of him.  Rimmer eyed it peevishly, 

“What about his diet plan?”

“What David has there is an extremely nutritious egg-white omelette with grilled bacon and tomatoes and home-baked wholemeal toast.  It’s a very healthy and filling breakfast for a young man,” she replied, with the slightest edge to her voice.  Rimmer raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.  “Hey,” Lister said happily, tucking in, “I can’t eat grapefruit every day.”  He _really_ liked Mrs Jones, he decided.

 

            The massage turned out to be rather more brutal than Lister had been expecting, but the guy who carried it out swore that it would do his battered muscles the world of good.  When it was over and he was dressed again, Rimmer told him to grab a sweater from his room and meet him on the roof by the RimmerJet.  “When you said we were going for a picnic, I thought you meant in the park or something,” he said in surprise.  “Dave,” Rimmer replied, sounding both offended and exasperated, “When have you ever known me to be that dull and unoriginal?”

 

Once they were up in the air, Lister turned to him, “So where _are_ we going?”

“A small ocean moon not far away.  I thought we could use a bit of peace and quiet.”

“So there’ll be no-one else there at all?”

“I can’t imagine why there would be.  There’s no marine life to attract fishing.  You’re not scared of being alone with me, are you?” Lister sensed Rimmer was only half-joking.  

“Are you kidding?” he replied, “I’ve had enough of other people this weekend to last me until the next solar eclipse.  What with being beaten up by your masseuse this morning and then spending last night being patronised by snobs and molested by Mrs Robinson, I’ve had just about enough.”

“Mrs Robinson.  Ha!” Rimmer brayed, “I should tell her that, she’d love it.”

“Be my guest.”

            As they began their descent, Lister peered out of the viewscreen and frowned quizzically.  “If this is an ocean moon,” he asked confused, “Where are we going to land?”

“Wherever we like,” Rimmer replied.  As they sank down towards the surface of the water, he hit a button on the dash and there was a busy whirring sound beneath them.  The craft settled down lightly on the water and bobbed gently.  “This thing doubles as a hoverboat?!” Lister exclaimed in disbelief.  Rimmer grinned and pushed another button.  The glass roof folded back on itself, leaving them open to the waves and clear blue sky.  Lister stared at him, eyes wide.  “You know,” he said, “You are a strange man with some very weird issues, Mr Rimmer.  But you do have some smegging _brilliant_ toys.”  He grinned widely. 

“If you like that then check this out,” Rimmer eased the joystick forward and the boat shot away beneath them, leaving a thirty foot high spray glittering in the air behind them.  Lister whooped with delight as the wind rushed past his face and tiny water droplets sprinkled his face.  They zigzagged and spun across the ocean surface.  “Fun?” Rimmer shouted across to him, smiling.

“Hell, yeah!” Lister shouted back.

“Want to have a go?”

“You’re kidding?”

            Rimmer gently eased the boat to a halt, “Come on, we’ll switch seats.”

“I don’t know how to drive this thing!”

“I’ll show you.  Besides, it’s not like there’s anything out here for you to crash into.”  Lister unbuckled his harness and slid across eagerly.  Rimmer slipped an arm around his shoulders and took his left hand, placing it on the joystick.  They exchanged a smirk, “Don’t say a word,” Rimmer warned.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lister replied innocently.

            Still holding his hand over Lister’s, Rimmer showed him how to steer, accelerate and brake at an easy pace.  “Think you can handle that?” he asked him, sliding into the passenger seat.  “Hmm,” Lister raised an eyebrow, “Let’s find out.”  The engine roared and they were both flung backwards in their seats as Lister sped away.  Immediately he felt his heart lift with the joy of it.  It was like being out on his bike but with more weight and power behind him.  He wondered if there was such a thing as a hoverbike.  If not, Rimmer could probably arrange for one.  He risked a glance at Rimmer who was smiling indulgently beside him – but gripping the seat with white knuckles.  Lister grinned.  Arnold Rimmer did not like giving up control.  Unable as ever to resist temptation, he spun the boat in a 360 before bringing it to a brisk halt, sending a large doughnut shaped wave out away from them.  He looked at Rimmer smugly, “Not too shabby for my first time, eh?”  At that moment, the spray he’d thrown up as he spun the craft round finally succumbed to gravity and poured back down, splashing loudly back into the ocean and soaking them both.

            Lister looked up sheepishly, water dripping off his nose and saw Rimmer shaking himself.  His curls immediately pinged free from the hair gel and puffed up around his head in a halo.  Lister bit his lip, trying not to laugh.  Rimmer glared at him, lips pursed in annoyance and Lister cowered slightly, wondering if he really was in for the cane this time.  Then Rimmer reached out, grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him roughly into a kiss and as far as Lister was concerned, that was far more exciting than anything this machine could do.

 

            Rimmer put the seats down and they sprawled out and grazed on the picnic Mrs Jones had packed for them.  Afterwards they lay in the warmth of the sun, bobbing gently on the waves, just kissing.  When Rimmer’s hand eventually strayed down to pet Lister’s erection he carefully slipped his fingers through his and moved it away.  Rimmer looked down at him, disappointed but clearly only a little bit surprised.  “No?” he asked regretfully.

“Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Rimmer looked a bit guilty, “Are you very sore today, baby?”

“I’m okay,” Lister said and it wasn’t a total lie, “And I know that by the time I’m halfway through next week and missing you like crazy I’m going to look back on this moment and kick myself for not making the most of every second.  But right now, I think another orgasm might cause something to rupture.”  He smiled weakly.  Rimmer kissed his forehead, “Get some rest this week, okay?  I want you back to full strength by Friday night so I can tire you out again.”

“Sounds like a plan.  Might be easier said than done though.”

“How long until your thesis is due in?”

“Three weeks.”

Rimmer looked down at him, his eyes troubled.  “You know, if you want to give up work so you can focus on your studies, you can do it.  I’ll take care of you.”

“No.”

“You’re a stubborn creature.  Why won’t you let me look after you?”

“Because I don’t need looking after,” Lister replied abruptly, “And because, whatever happens, sooner or later you’ll be gone and I’ll have to go back to looking after myself.  I don’t want to get out of practice.”

“Some people would say you should enjoy it while it lasts,” Rimmer suggested.

“There’s plenty of other things for me to enjoy,” Lister said, reaching up to run his fingers through the damp, wind-tossed curls he loved and draw Rimmer down into a kiss.  

“Dave?” Rimmer said softly after a minute or so.

“Yeah?”

“As you’re...incapacitated, would you mind just helping me out here?”  His eyes flicked briefly downward.  Lister smiled teasingly, 

“Is that a request or an order?”

“It’s a request,” Rimmer gently stroked his cheek, “You can say no.  You can _always_ say no,” he reminded him softly.  Lister propped himself up on one arm and gave him another lingering kiss.  

“Your wish is my command, Sir,” he murmured and slid purposefully downwards...

 

            Eventually the air grew cooler and when Lister started to shiver, Rimmer called time on their excursion.  It was with a slightly heavy heart that Lister strapped himself back in, ready for take-off and the short trip back to Saturn.  “I’ll drop you back at the shuttle-port seeing as we’re already halfway there,” Rimmer told him, “And I’ll organise for a car to take you home.  It won’t be the limo I’m afraid, I need Taylor with me for the next few days.”

“You mean,” Lister replied with theatrical disgust, “I’m going to have to go in a _normal_ car?”

“I’ll make it a nice one,” Rimmer reached over and stroked his knee, “Promise.”

“You know, since I signed that contract it’s like you’re not even trying anymore,” Lister replied, trying to inject as much injured feeling into his voice as possible.  Rimmer threw him a sideways glance, with a highly suspicious smile, “I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you next weekend.”

“I suppose you will.”

 

The car that arrived to take him home from the shuttle-port was a classic Jag.  Lister decided he could live with that.


	26. Chapter 26

            He was back at his dorm before nine o’clock.  When he got in, he was surprised to find Petersen and Petrovitch on the couch watching _Universe Challenge_.  “Hi guys,” he greeted them. 

“David!  You are home!”  Petrovitch greeted him with his normal effervescent enthusiasm and Lister couldn’t help but smile.  It wasn’t really that surprising, he chided himself, to find the two of them getting along.  Different as they were, not liking Petrovitch would be akin to not liking a big personified hug (if it had a terrifying IQ and a strong Russian accent).

            He joined them on the sofa and Petersen passed him a beer without looking away from the tv.  “How was your big weekend?” he asked.

“Great,” Lister replied.

“Did you make it out of the bedroom at any point?”

“We went to a party last night.  And today we went boating and had a picnic.”

“That all sounds a bit tame for Rimmer.”

“The party was a big swanky affair at a country estate on Jupiter and the boat was a multi-functional air-space jet on a deserted ocean moon.”

“Ah,” Petersen sipped his beer, still not looking up from the screen.

“So it is true?” Petrovitch asked intrigued, “What people have been saying?”

“What are people saying?” Lister asked.  He had a fair idea, but it wouldn’t hurt to know the gossip.  

“That you are dating with Arnold Rimmer,” Petrovitch said simply.  _Well, not exactly,_ Lister imagined saying, _I signed a contract agreeing to be his submissive in an intense sado-masochistic partnership.  We agreed no fisting though._   Even if he’d wanted to tell them, he’d signed the damn NDA, hadn’t he?  “I suppose that’s more or less true,” he settled for saying.

“You are sleeping with him?” Petrovitch asked.  Again, Lister hesitated.  He and Rimmer had never actually slept in the same bed.  

“I’m not really supposed to talk about it,” he replied awkwardly.

“But he is,” Petersen interjected, still engrossed in the tv, “And everybody knows it.”

“ _I_ didn’t know,” Petrovitch protested, “I just hear rumours, is all.”

“I don’t know why Rimmer’s being so coy about it all of a sudden,” Petersen added, “He wasn’t exactly subtle in his courtship.”

“Olaf!” Petrovitch protested, “Surely is obvious!  He is trying to protect David!”

“What?” Petersen finally disengaged from the telly.

“Eh?” Lister chimed in.

“He is very rich important man!” Petrovitch stressed, “If people were to know he was in love with David, there could be great danger.  Word gets out and next thing we know – poof!” he threw his hands up in the air, “David is gone and very bad people are demanding for very big ransom.”

“Smegging hell, Dave,” Petersen stared at him, “He could be onto something there.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Lister told him darkly, eyeballing him warily.

“Seriously though, you should be careful.”

“Look, he’s not in _love_ with me,” Lister protested, somewhat huffily, “And no-one even knows we’re together.  It’s fine.”

“Dave, the whole campus knows there’s something going on.  It’ll get out sooner or later.”

“Nobody _knows_ anything.  It’s all just gossip.”

“But there is truth in the gossip,” Petrovitch warned, “And true or not, the gossip could be enough to make you target for the unscrupulous.”

            Lister was bewildered, and not just from hearing Petrovitch say the word ‘unscrupulous’ in his delightful accent.  This was something he’d never considered.  He’d assumed Rimmer’s desire to keep their arrangement a secret was more to do with protecting his own reputation; just as he’d assumed the man’s continued insistence on chauffeuring him around was down to his constant need for control.  The idea that Rimmer might have bigger concerns had never even occurred to him.

            “That’s it,” he said, standing up, “You guys are freaking me out.”

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.  I’m going to call Rimmer and let him know I’m back safe and un-abducted.”

“Just out of interest,” Petersen called after him, “Ask him how much he thinks you’re worth!”

“Smeg off!”

“Don’t worry, David!” Petrovitch told him loyally, “Your secret is safe with me, I will deflect the rumours if I can!” 

“Thank you.”

“Although perhaps we ought to implant a tracking device in you, just in case.”

“What?!”

“It would only be small.  Like micro-chipping a cat or dog.  I know a guy who could probably do it if we buy him drink after.”  Lister had a mental image of Rimmer sitting at a computer somewhere watching a flashing dot labelled ‘Tiddles’ moving across the screen.  “Ugh!”  He raised his hands to his head as if he could squeeze the image out, “You guys are not micro-chipping me!  End of discussion!  No-one is going to kidnap me and you-” he pointed accusingly at Petersen, “Are not going to take this train of thought any further.”

“If we send him one of your fingers in a box he’ll probably pay up quicker,” Petersen mused.

“Olaf!”

“It wouldn’t be your actual finger.  We could get one from the med students.”

            Lister stared at the pair of them for a very long second, then turned around and went into his room without another word.  “Ah, you used to be fun!” Petersen shouted from the sitting room.  After a moments thought, Lister locked the door behind him.  He pulled out his phone and called Rimmer.  “Hey, I’m home.”

“Excellent.  Was the car to your liking?”

“Meh...” Lister replied playfully.

“Okay, I get it.  Must try harder.  Is everything else ok?”

“Apart from the mad Dane and only slightly less mad Russian hogging my sofa, yes.  By the way, if someone sends you a finger in the post, it’s probably not really mine.  Just so you know.”

“That’s reassuring.  Is it something I should look out for?”

“Probably not.  Just bear it in mind.”

“Will do.  I’ll call you in a few days to make sure you still have all fingers present and correct and let you know what’s happening next weekend.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, you take care of yourself.  Don’t work too hard.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Good.  Laters, baby.”  Rimmer hung up.  Lister smiled quietly to himself and eased down onto the edge of his narrow squeaky bed.  He was exhausted, his body ached and his two closest friends were possibly formulating a plan to abduct him at this very second.  But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this happy.  

            

 

            For the rest of the week he pushed on with his project and spent a lot of time in the workshop.  The massive upheaval in his personal life over the past few weeks had pushed most other considerations to the back of his mind but now that things with Rimmer were more or less settled – however bizarrely – he was suddenly very aware of the fact that the end of term was creeping up and that whatever happened next would have a huge impact on his life.  If he was successful in getting his scholarship to the academy it would be a big step up in his career.  It would also mean he’d be able to stay in touch with many of the friends he had made here on Saturn, such as Petrovitch and Kochanski, who would all be moving on to the academy as a matter of course.  If he didn’t, it would mean signing up on whatever ramshackle JMC ship that had vacancies and spending the next two or three years fixing malfunctioning skutters and faulty vending machines.  It would mean lousy pay, minimal shore leave and constant exam revision to try and work his way up from the bottom.  Lister knew which path he’d rather follow.  

            He was quietly confident.  He knew his grades were good and that his tutors were pleased with him.  His head of department had told him at his last study appraisal that provided he stayed on track they would be more than happy to support his scholarship application.  Everything rested now on his final grades – and whether the selection committee took a shine to him.  Lister was well aware that he didn’t come from the sort of background that was generally considered academy material.  There were only five scholarship places available and they were likely to favour the sort of kids who came from good families that had fallen on hard times.  Not scally scousers who, through some freak of nature, had a surprising aptitude for engineering.  He was hoping that this collaboration with Petrovitch, if it went well, would give him the extra edge he needed.

            After the teasing he’d got from his friends on Sunday night, he’d been more aware of how other people were treating him too.  Most of the guys from his workshop were acting like nothing had changed, which he was grateful for, but he couldn’t deny that just about everywhere he went around campus there were people staring at him.  People he’d never spoken to before had started saying ‘hi’, other people who used to be friendly were giving him a wide berth.  He didn’t get the impression that anyone was planning to kidnap him though.  It had crossed his mind (and he hated himself for it) to wonder whether the rumours about his relationship with Rimmer might help or hinder his scholarship application if word got out.  He didn’t want to be labelled a gold-digger but having friends in high places might be a bonus.  And friends didn’t come much higher than Arnold Rimmer unless they controlled an army. 

            On Thursday night he got the text message he’d been waiting for.  _I will send a car for you at seven tomorrow.  Wear black, it makes you look sexy.  And brace yourself._   Lister raised an eyebrow and texted back; _Brace myself for what?_ The reply came immediately.  _Last week was just the initiation.  This week is full immersion.  Don’t expect me to go as easy on you. You have been warned..._

Lister bit his lip.  At what point had last weekend been easy?  What the smeg did Rimmer have up his sleeve this time?  _Yes, sir,_ he texted back, not sure whether to be excited or terrified.

 


	27. Chapter 27

            He wore his leather trousers and a black shirt and boots.  When the chauffeur came to pick him up, it wasn’t Taylor.  It was the man in the Jaguar from last time.  “My orders are to drive you to the shuttleport,” he explained as they drove away, “and escort you to your flight.  I have your tickets.  Your normal driver will pick you up when you land on Jupiter.”

“Brutal,” Lister replied, gazing nonchalantly out the window.

            Everything went smoothly.  The car pulled up directly outside the terminal and the chauffeur guided Lister directly to the VIP departure lounge.  Ten minutes later he was seated in his huge squishy armchair in first-class and just minutes after that they were up and away and Lister was holding a cold glass of champagne he didn’t really want, but was too polite to refuse.  The two other people in his section – middle-aged men in suits - had glanced at him curiously a few times.  Lister wondered what they made of him.  Did they imagine him to be the rebellious child of some wealthy family being flown home courtesy of Daddy’s credit card?  Or some rock star their kids would probably recognise?  How else could they rationalise this scruffy-looking, baby-faced boy inexplicably sipping champagne in their cabin?

            When he stepped off the shuttle at Jupiter, Taylor was waiting for him on the concourse with the limo.  Lister grinned at him.  It was good to see a familiar face, even if that face was your lover’s private driver and not the man himself.  “Nice to see you, Mister Lister.  Did you have a pleasant trip?”

“Very pleasant, thank you,” Lister replied, “Although I think my travelling companions were a bit confused by me.”

“I can’t imagine why that might be,” Taylor replied dutifully.  They shared a secret smile.  Lister hopped into the back of the car, slightly disappointed to find it empty and settled back as they set off for the hub.  

“Is Mister Rimmer washing his hair?” he enquired playfully.  

“Mister Rimmer is making some last minute preparations for your visit,” Taylor confirmed, “But please don’t be offended by his not being here to greet you.  He is, as always, very excited that you’re coming.”  Lister wondered again just how much Taylor knew about this arrangement.  By ‘preparations’ did he mean ‘sticking a lasagne in the oven’ or did he mean ‘polishing up the handcuffs?’.

            When they pulled up in the underground car park at Rimmer Central, Taylor led Lister to the elevator and gave him the code for the penthouse.  “You go on up,” he said, “I’ll be in my office if you gentlemen need anything.”

“Thanks, Taylor.  As always.”

            The journey to the top floor seemed to take forever.  When the lift doors finally opened, Rimmer was waiting for him with open arms.  “Hey,” Lister sank into his embrace with an immense sense of relief.  He’d missed Rimmer all week but hadn’t realised how much until right now.  The man’s presence just _did_ something to him – made him feel so vulnerable yet so secure all at once.  Rimmer kissed him, “Good trip, baby?”

“It was okay,” Lister half-smiled, “I missed the RimmerJet though.”  He played that sentence back in his head and realised what a whiny git he sounded like, complaining because his lover hadn’t sent the private jet for him.  “I mean,” he added quickly, “It’s nice when it’s just the two of us.”

“Yes, it is,” Rimmer stepped back and looked him up and down with a nod of approval.  “You wore black like I asked.”

“Hey,” Lister smiled sheepishly, “You’re the boss, remember?  You say wear black, I wear black.”

“And what if I tell you to take it off?”  Rimmer reached up and traced Lister’s bottom lip with his thumb.  The brief touch was enough; Lister immediately caught light.  

“Well,” he replied softly, “I suppose I’d have to do that too.”

“So do it,” Rimmer’s eyes sparkled.

            Lister felt like cheering.  This was just what he needed after his long week.  No soul-searching, no long conversations or negotiations.  Just straight to what they both wanted after too many days apart.  He stripped down willingly and, when he was naked, Rimmer took his hand and pulled him close again, kissing him and biting gently on his lower lip.  Lister ran his hands over him, loving the feel of the cloth sliding over that smooth hard body.  “Your turn?” he whispered.

“Not yet,” Rimmer replied against his mouth.  He squeezed Lister close for a second, then bent down and tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift; and carried him towards the playroom.  Lister laughed breathlessly, “Right to the point, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Rimmer said darkly, “We have training to get on with.”

“And what is this week’s lesson going to be?”  

            Rimmer opened the door to the playroom and carried him straight to the bed, where he dropped him to the mattress.  “It’s a tough one,” he said, “But necessary.  So I thought we’d best get it out of the way.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Lister replied, smiling nervously.  Rimmer climbed onto the bed, straddling him and kissing him deeply.  Lister murmured and rubbed against him but Rimmer pulled back, leaving him panting.  “Make no mistake,” he told him, “This is probably going to be the hardest part of your role as my submissive.”

“Worse than being whipped?”

“In some ways, yes.”

            Lister swallowed hard, “What are you going to do?”

“Just play along like a good boy and you’ll find out.”

“Is this going to hurt?”  Rimmer leaned over and kissed him again.

“Only your pride, baby.”  Something deep in Lister’s stomach began to coil into a stiff knot.  “You wait there,” Rimmer told him, “And don’t move a muscle.”  He got up off the bed and went to the cabinet against the wall.  He reached into a drawer and pulled out something that jangled softly.  Lister eyed him warily as he came back to the bed, holding something.  It was a set of chains, linked into an X shape.  At each corner of the X was a leather cuff.  

Lister’s heart began to thump as Rimmer got back onto the bed.  He looked up at him nervously.  “I guess,” he said weakly, “This is where it gets serious, right?”

“Right,” Rimmer agreed solemnly.  He reached down to stroke Lister’s cheek, “This is where I need you to trust me.”

“I do,”

“But more than that.  This is where I need you to remember what you signed up for.”  He ran a hand down Lister’s body, “I need you to remember that you belong to me.  And that you want to please me.  You have to want that more than anything else.”

“Okay,” Lister whispered.

“Is that what you want, David?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“More than anything?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister closed his eyes.  _This is how it must feel before a bungee jump,_ he thought dreamily.  _You take the plunge, place all your faith in the cords around your feet and pray that you’ll bounce back._   He’d never imagined he’d find himself in a relationship where he’d have to look on sex with his partner as a danger sport, but whatever was about to happen looked to Lister as daunting as a drop into the Grand Canyon – he just had to think of Rimmer as his bungee cord.  And have faith.

            “Roll over onto your front for me,” Rimmer said quietly.  Lister turned over without a word.  Rimmer’s hands slid over him and squeezed his buttocks firmly.  “You are so _delicious_ ,” he whispered, “So magnificent.”  Despite all his nerves and anxiety, the praise made Lister melt.  Arnold Rimmer, his glorious animated statue, thought _he_ was magnificent.  Oh, that felt good to know.  The leather cuffs went around his wrists and were buckled tight, holding his hands at the small of his back.  _Faith_ , his subconscious reminded him soothingly.  _Breathe_ , his libido reminded him, slightly more urgently.  Rimmer’s hands moved down the backs of his thighs, his knees, his calves.  He lifted first one ankle, then the other, fastening them to Lister’s already shackled wrists, leaving him in a loose hogtie.  Lister tried to stretch surreptitiously.  The chains felt very, very strong.  Rimmer stroked the back of his neck, “How does that feel?” he murmured.  Lister didn’t know what to say.  He wasn’t uncomfortable – not yet at least.  But he felt helpless...and vulnerable.  “Okay,” he said in a tiny voice.

“Does it hurt at all?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  It’s fine.”

“Good.  In that case I’ll proceed.  Remember to use the safety words if anything becomes uncomfortable.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Lister was expecting Rimmer to undress, to mount his bound and powerless body and begin fucking him.  Instead he heard a further clinking of chains and felt a faint tugging at his trussed limbs.  There was another chain, he realised, anchored in the roof of the four poster bed he was on.  Rimmer had pulled it down and attached it to the chains holding him.  “You look so good,” Rimmer told him soothingly.  He climbed off the bed.  Lister turned his head anxiously to see where he was going, and saw him pulling a lever concealed in one of the bed posts.  There was a rumbling, whirring sound above him and he gasped as the chain was pulled upwards, pulling his legs and shoulders back with it and forcing his back into a taught bow.  “Rimmer...” he whimpered uneasily.

“It’s okay, Dave,” he said gently.  The chain continued to draw back into the winch above and Lister suddenly found he was being lifted off the bed.  Rimmer shut the winch off, leaving Lister hanging by his wrists and ankles a few inches above the mattress.  

            “Holy smeg,” he panted, wriggling frantically.  Rimmer sat down beside him and took his face in his hands.  

“Don’t be scared, baby.  The chains are very strong, you’re not going to fall.”

“But...but...”

“Shhh.  It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, but...”  _But it will_ , he thought, unable to formulate the words, _it will start to hurt very quickly._

“And you trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes...”

“And you want to make me happy.”

“Yes...” Lister whimpered, defeated.  Rimmer kissed him.

“You’re making me very happy right now,” he said.  He crossed the room again and came back with a tube of lubricant.  He climbed onto the bed behind Lister.  “I’m not going to undress,” he told him, “Because this is going to be quick.  Understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister whispered with relief.  Already his shoulder and stomach muscles were straining alarmingly.  

            He heard Rimmer’s zip go and marvelled at the way his body immediately responded to the sound; his cock twitching eagerly.  Even in this surreal situation, suspended naked in the kind of bizarre bondage he’d never thought existed outside of certain specialist magazines, knowing that Rimmer was about to fuck him still made him ache with joyous anticipation. 

            He felt Rimmer’s hands steadying him as he slid deep inside him and immediately began to thrust quick and hard.  He squirmed in his chains.  This felt so weird.  There was nothing steady for him to anchor himself, nothing to brace himself against.  He’d never experienced anything like this.  He quickly realised the benefit of this position, as far as Rimmer was concerned, was that every part of Lister’s body was incredibly accessible.  His hands roved hungrily over every inch of him, returning after every brief expedition to stroke and caress his cock.  Lister couldn’t reciprocate – he couldn’t touch Rimmer, he couldn’t even touch himself; all he could do was hang there helplessly while Rimmer swiftly brought him closer and closer to orgasm.  Lister was just starting to feel the first ripples of pleasurable tension that let him know he was almost there, when Rimmer came inside him.  Lister groaned hard, as the now familiar sensation of Rimmer’s come fireworked inside him, sending his nerve endings into a frenzy but he needed more...just a little more...

            Rimmer slid out of him, panting with satisfaction and zipped himself up.  Lister whined desperately.  The chains lowered him back down gently to the bed and he moaned with combined relief and frustration as his muscles relaxed from their arduous test and his body screamed for sexual release.  Rimmer untied his restraints and Lister, the moment he was free, tugged him down into a fierce kiss.  Rimmer pushed him back firmly with a mocking smile, “Down boy.  It’s dinner time.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I warned you this was going to be hard.”  Lister stared at him, incredulous.

“I thought you meant the bondage!!!  You can’t leave me like this!  That’s not hard – it’s barbaric!”  

“Part of your training,” Rimmer told him sternly, “Is accepting that your body belongs to me now.  That means I decide whether you come or not when we fuck.”

“So you can just _use_ me for your own pleasure and forget about my needs?” Lister demanded furiously.  

“Yep, pretty much,” Rimmer smirked and kissed his forehead.

“That is _evil_.”

“Hey, you signed the contract.  Outside of the stipulated hard limits, I can do what I like with you.  This weekend is about letting that fact sink in.”

            Lister slumped back to the bed, buzzing with anger, frustration and need.  He reached automatically for his aching cock and Rimmer slapped his hand.  “Nope.  Not allowed.”

“Oh, come on!  If you’re not going to bring me off, what am I supposed to do?”

“Be a good obedient sub and accept that the sex we just had was about giving me pleasure – not you.”

“Please, man...” Lister pleaded, giving Rimmer his biggest and most pathetic puppy dog eyes.  “...Sir.  I’m so close.  So close...”

“I know, baby,” Rimmer kissed him, “But the answer’s still no.  Now get up and come and eat your dinner.  Don’t bother getting dressed, I want to look at you while we’re eating.”  Lister glared at him fiercely.  The puppy-dog eyes had never failed before.  This man was clearly a monster.  Rimmer grinned at his impotent fury.  “And by the way,” he added as he pulled him up off the bed, “If I catch you touching yourself, I can think of any number of punishments that will be a lot more unpleasant than a severe case of blue balls.  Bear that in mind.”


	28. Chapter 28

            Rimmer had opened up the dining room and lit some candles.  Lister had been half-terrified that Mrs Jones was going to appear to serve them dinner while he sat naked at the table with an enormous erection and cuff marks on his wrists – that would have just rounded off a perfect evening – but Rimmer had put trays out to keep warm.  Thank heaven for small blessings, as his grandmother would have said.

            The food was delicious but Lister was, understandably, distracted.  He couldn’t work out how to play this situation.  Should he be pouty and sulky?  Sweet and obedient?  Sultry and seductive?  What did Rimmer expect of him?  And more importantly, what was going to convince him that Lister had earned a smegging orgasm this evening?

            “Tell me about your week,” Rimmer prompted, “How is your thesis coming along?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“I want to see a copy when you’re done.  It will be very interesting to see what you boys have come up with.”

“Of course.”  Rimmer poured him a glass of champagne and Lister had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.  What was the deal with rich people and champagne?  Surely other beverages were available?  He drank it and said nothing.  “What else have you been up to?” Rimmer asked.

“Starting to work on my scholarship application.”

“Really?  So soon?”

“I want to make sure it’s as polished as possible before I send it in.”

“Are you worried about it?”

“I can’t take anything for granted.”

            Rimmer regarded him with concern, “If you don’t get the scholarship, what will you do?”  Lister picked at his food uneasily,

“The only thing I can do.  Join the JMC and trail round the solar system for the next two or three years until I can pass the engineering exams and then wait for a position to come up on one of the test bases.”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lister replied, “And you know my answer will still be the same.”

“Have you considered,” Rimmer asked carefully, “What it will mean for _us_ if you don’t get the scholarship?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you go to the academy and we decide to renew our contract when the three months are up, then nothing will change.  We can continue seeing each other on weekends the same as we do now.  If you join the JMC on the other hand, we wouldn’t be able to keep seeing each other even if we wanted to,” Rimmer pointed out.  Lister hesitated.  This was something he hadn’t considered.  He had tried not to think at all about what would happen when the time came to renew their contract – the looming threat of impending rejection made him feel nauseous whenever he did.  And everything was so raw and new it was impossible to think ahead that far.  For him at least.

            “I suppose,” he said cautiously, “We’ll have to cross that bridge when the time comes.”

“Does that mean, if you don’t get your scholarship, you’ll at least consider working for me?”  Lister paused for a moment.  This felt like dangerous ground somehow but Rimmer had a point and he wasn’t asking for any promises.  “Sure,” he said finally, “I’ll think about it.  If it happens.”

“Good,” Rimmer said.  Lister took a deep sip of his champagne.  When he put his glass down, Rimmer was staring at him.  “You look so wonderful in the candlelight,” he said, “Your skin is so perfect.”

“Thanks,” Lister said weakly.  

He noted the twinkle in Rimmer’s eyes with some suspicion.  “What are you thinking?” he asked warily.  Rimmer gazed at him, his chin propped on one hand.

“All sorts of things,” he replied with a predatory smile.  “I still can’t quite believe you’re really here.  Really mine.”

“Yeah, well, me either,” Lister remarked, gazing out at the glittering view of the city below them.  There were still moments when he looked out of the windows of Rimmer Central when he wondered if all of this was a dream.  He had a flashback of being a small boy, staring glumly out of the grubby window of his bedroom at the estate where he lived.  Looking at the run-down houses and graffiti, the overflowing bins and the sad grey sprawl of the city beyond in the distance.  That boy couldn’t have imagined the scale and opulence of this place, except in his wildest dreams.  How had he ended up here?  _Easy_ , his subconscious remarked snidely.  _Sex_.  _There’s a reason why you’re sat here eating your fancy food and drinking pricey champagne in the buff, kid.  And once he’s tired of you, you’ll go back to having – and being – nothing._

            “What’s the matter?” Rimmer asked him gently.  Lister snapped out of his reverie.  

“Nothing,” he said.  He pushed back his chair, walked round the table and knelt down in front of Rimmer.  There was no point trying to deny it.  He _was_ here because of sex.  The whole basis of their ‘relationship’ was about sex.  He wanted Rimmer, Rimmer wanted him.  He wasn’t here for the view, or the champagne, or the designer clothes; he was here for this beautiful, extraordinary man.  And if Rimmer wanted _him_ here, even if it was just for messed-up kinky sex, that was okay by Lister.  He’d provide it gladly if it meant they could be together.  If it would make Rimmer happy.

            Without a word, he unbuttoned Rimmer’s trousers and slipped them down.  Rimmer stroked his head, already hard and erect.  “My, my,” he said softly, “You still hungry?”

“Starving,” Lister whispered, running his tongue up the shaft from root to tip.  Rimmer murmured with pleasure, 

“And...ah!...you’re hoping for a little give and take, am I right?”

“No,” Lister looked up at him earnestly, “I just want to please you.  That’s all.”

“Oh, you do,” Rimmer told him huskily, “You please me very much.”

“I hope so,” Lister told him, still lapping and nuzzling at his cock, “Because over the next 48 hours, I want to please you over and over and over until you couldn’t be any more pleased if you tried.”  Rimmer laughed breathlessly, clearly both thrilled and slightly shocked.  “And you really think you can last that long without feeling a little pleased yourself?” he asked.

“I like a challenge.”

“So do I,” Rimmer smiled, leaning back in his chair, “So do I.”

            

            Lister didn’t quite make it through the whole 48 hours.  But it was fair to say that at the end of the weekend, he and Rimmer were both feeling very pleased indeed.  “See,” Rimmer said smugly, “I told you, you just had to trust me.”

 

            On Sunday night as Lister flew back to Saturn, half-dozing in his big comfy seat, some of the unease returned.  He knew when he landed there would be a car waiting to take him home – probably the Jag.  Next week he’d probably be back to the limo and the RimmerJet.  It was all becoming worryingly familiar.  This wasn’t going to last forever.  He’d known Rimmer barely a month, and he was already starting to realise that when their arrangement finally ended, it was going to be very difficult to say goodbye to all this.  The seats in first-class, the luxury cars, the private drivers, the rooms with a view.

            He’d also realised this weekend, when he’d dropped down on his knees in front of Rimmer at the table, that he’d got himself deeper in this thing than he’d ever planned.  Maybe too deep.  Forget the lifestyle, saying goodbye to Rimmer when the time came, might just be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do.  

Lister gazed anxiously out of his window at the stars, and wondered – not for the first or last time – how the boy from the estate, the boy with no family and no past, had wound up getting entangled with one of the richest men in the universe.  How had he ended up falling for Arnold J Rimmer?


	29. Chapter 29

            If Lister had needed any further reminders as to how fast the end of term was approaching, the following Friday was the college open day for prospective students.  He couldn’t get into the workshop as all the teaching spaces were being used for various tours and displays, so he retreated to his bedroom to focus on some written work.  A lot of his fellow students were using the disruption as an opportunity to lie out on the quad and the sports field to sunbathe but he wasn’t in the mood to lounge.  If he didn’t keep himself busy he knew he’d just end up staring at his phone for hours, waiting for the call or text to say that the car was on its way to take him to his other life and the man who was at the centre of it.  Despite everything, Lister wasn’t quite ready to be that guy.  He wanted to maintain some illusion of self-respect, even if it all evaporated the moment those hazel eyes locked on his.

            All of his good intentions went out the window when Petersen stuck his head round the bedroom door after lunch.  “You know your boyfriend’s here, right?” he said.  Lister looked up from his laptop, “What?”

“Rimmer’s here.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, if he’s not then someone’s nicked his private jet.  Because it’s out on the sports field with his name down the side in massive letters.”

            Lister rummaged in his pocket and checked his phone, even though he knew very well it had been silent all morning.  Although he hadn’t actually been staring at it, he had kept it on him and would have been on it the moment it buzzed.  So much for self-respect.  “He didn’t tell me he was coming,” he protested blankly.

“Go find him,” Peterson shrugged, “He’s probably walking round looking at the open day stalls or talking to the Dean.”

“I don’t know if I should,” Lister bit his lip, “Maybe he doesn’t want me to know he’s here.”

“Well, then he really should have chosen a more discreet form of transport.”

“Anyway, this is supposed to be a secret, remember?” Lister reminded him, “I’m not sure he’ll be pleased if I come bouncing up and give him a kiss in front of everyone.”

“I’ll come with you then.”

“How will that help?”

“It won’t,” Petersen said cheerfully, “I just wanna see how this goes down.”

            Sure enough, they soon spotted Rimmer wandering through the cluster of stalls out on the quad with the Dean.  Lister hesitated but Peterson nudged him hard in the back, “Go on.  He can’t expect you to hover in the background forever.  He’s got to start treating you like an equal partner in this relationship.”  _But I’m not!_ – Lister wanted to wail, _I’m just his sub and if I make him angry I’ll probably spend the weekend on my hands and knees having my butt paddled!!!_

            Fortunately, at that moment, Rimmer spotted him and beckoned him over.  Lister wandered across, trying to look casual.  “David,” Rimmer greeted him politely and Lister knew he wasn’t going to get a kiss.  “Hello,” he replied, just as politely, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.  What a surprise.”

“A pleasant one, I hope,” there was the faintest suggestion of a smile at the corner of Rimmer’s mouth.  

“Of course,” Lister beamed charmingly, “It’s always a pleasure with you, Mister Rimmer.”  

He saw the Dean out of the corner of his eye, watching them with perhaps a fraction too much attention and wondered if the rumours around here had travelled as far as the faculty office.  Then he remembered that the Dean had been present on the day Rimmer had marched him off campus to have lunch.  Technically, there was no reason for him to object to their relationship even if he disapproved; Lister was well over the age of consent across the solar system and Rimmer, although he had connections to the college, was not a member of staff.  Maybe, like everyone else around here (including Lister), he was just trying to work out what a guy like Arnold Rimmer could possibly see in this short, grubby little oik.

            Lister glanced around nonchalantly and sure enough, everywhere he looked there were people watching them like hawks.  He turned back to Rimmer, “You seem to be attracting a lot of attention,” he remarked pointedly.  Rimmer took the hint, “Perhaps I should move along.  Don’t want to distract folk from the main event, do we?”  He turned to the Dean, “Perhaps now would be a good time for David to give me a tour of the workshops.”

“I can show you around if you’d like,” the Dean replied diplomatically, flicking a glance at Lister.  

“Nonsense,” Rimmer said briskly, “I’m sure you have other demands on your time.  And who better to guide me than a student who uses the facilities day in, day out?”

“Very well,” the Dean gave up, “As you wish.  I hope you enjoy yourselves,” he cleared his throat, “The tour that is.  Excuse me.”  _Yep_ , Lister thought, _he_ _knows_.

            As they walked out of the quad together, Lister could feel every pair of eyes in the place watching them.  When they were a safe distance away, he looked up at Rimmer, “So how come you didn’t tell me you were dropping in?”

“It was a last minute decision.  Besides, I thought it would be a good opportunity to inspect the facilities.”

“So you really want me to show you round the workshop?”

“Absolutely.  Why else would I be walking off alone with a handsome young student?”

“I’m sure everyone who just watched us leave has their own theory about that.”

“All the more reason for us to stick to our completely innocent agenda and look around the college.  Besides, I’m intrigued to see where you spend all your time.”

“Okay,” Lister was surprised and actually quite flattered, “Well, follow me.”

            When they entered the workshop, Lister felt a little strange.  It was odd to find the place so empty and silent.  Normally it was humming with the sound of machinery, tools and voices raised over the din.  But more than that, it felt odd to be standing in here with Rimmer; two very separate strands of his life weaving together unexpectedly.  

“So,” Rimmer looked about, rocking back and forth on his toes, hands clasped behind him, “This is where you work.”

“Yep.”

“And do you have everything you need?”

“Mostly.  There’s a few things we could use though...oh, and a couple of things that need replacing.”  Lister walked over to the tool cupboard and pulled it open.  Rimmer hovered behind him as he pointed out various items of equipment that they could use more or newer versions of.  After a moment or two, Rimmer’s hands slid around his waist and he began to kiss his neck.  

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Lister said reprovingly.

“I assure you I am,” Rimmer murmured against his ear, “I find it incredibly erotic when you talk mechanics.  I can just picture you in here getting all sweaty and dirty every day.”

“You like that, huh?” Lister teased, “Maybe this weekend I can bring my toolbag and give the limo a good going over.  Maybe I’ll even let you _watch_.”

“Maybe when you’re done I’ll bend you over the hood and give _you_ a good going over,” Rimmer growled.  Lister giggled, he couldn’t help it.  It felt so odd, doing this here of all places.  This was normally his refuge from the insanity of his relationship with Rimmer.  This was where he was a normal guy.

            “Come here,” Rimmer tugged him out of the cupboard and over to one of the work benches.  

“Hey!  What happened to your completely innocent agenda?”

“You ruined it by making me horny.”  Rimmer took his hand and pressed it to his crotch.  He was hard and ready.

“Oh no!” Lister shook his head, still giggling nervously, “We can’t!  Not in here!”

“No-one will see, the windows are too high up.”

“There’s still tours coming round for next year’s students.  They’ll catch us.”  Rimmer picked up a long piece of pipe from one of the benches, walked to the doors and wedged it through the handles, 

“Problem solved,” he said.

“That won’t hold them off for long.”

“Long enough,” Rimmer grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, backing him up against the bench.  

“This is _so_ naughty,” Lister protested.  Rimmer silenced him with his tongue.  “Besides,” Lister added breathlessly, a few seconds later, “Won’t you get bored without your...y’know...props?”  

“David,” Rimmer scolded, unwinding his tie, “Do you really think I’m that unresourceful?”

            He used the tie to bind Lister’s wrists together, then flipped him round and bent him over, securing his wrists to the vice on the other side of the bench so he couldn’t get up.  “My,” Lister said weakly, “That was creative.”

“David,” Rimmer purred, “Give me five minutes in this room and I could come up with a hundred different ways to render you helpless and make you come your brains out.”

“Five minutes might be all we have!” Lister reminded him urgently.  He was excited, but what would happen if they got caught?  Could he get expelled for this?  Nah...probably not.  The college authorities might not approve of one of their most important investors being caught fucking a student on the premises (particularly a student tied down to a workbench....in the middle of the college open day), but Lister was willing to bet that for Arnold J Rimmer they’d turn a blind eye.

            Rimmer reached around and squeezed Lister’s cock firmly through his jeans, making him moan.  “Don’t try to rush me, Dave.  Not unless you want me to leave you tied up like this for the next tour to find, once I’m done with you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now then,” Rimmer’s fingers pulled open his jeans and unzipped him, “Remember what you promised me, about the next time we fucked in public?”

_Oh smeg_ , Lister thought.  “Yes, sir.”

“And are you going to be a good boy and keep your promise?  Are you going to be nice and quiet while I fuck you?”

“Yes, sir,” he said again, thinking - _This is going to be impossible._   His jeans dropped to the floor and he gulped slightly, waiting for someone to start banging on the door.

            “Mmmm...” Rimmer slapped his buttocks lightly, “I’m about to do some serious work on you, David Lister.  But first I’d better get my tools ready.”

“Your tool is always ready,” Lister quipped playfully, “That’s the benefit of having good quality equipment.”  Rimmer chuckled,

“Oh, I’m not just talking about _my_ equipment.  You don’t really expect me to pass up on a whole room full of new toys, do you?”  He walked back to the tool cupboard.  Lister’s eyebrows shot up.  Pinned down across the bench, he tried to peer back over his shoulder, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Be quiet,” Rimmer said dismissively.

“If you come out of there carrying a hacksaw, I’m going to start screaming,” Lister warned him nervously.  

“You know, Dave, sometimes your imagination is a hell of a lot darker than mine.” Rimmer remarked from inside the cupboard, “And I told you to be quiet.”  Lister waited nervously for him to emerge.  When he did, he was carrying a spray-can of WD-40 and a large battery-powered screwdriver.

            “Yellow,” Lister said immediately, staring at the screwdriver.  Rimmer laughed, 

“You don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet.”

“I’m not sure I want to.”

“Just trust me, baby,” Rimmer reached down and ran one of Lister’s locks through his fist, “And stop talking.”

            Seconds later, with the help of a little WD-40, Rimmer was deep inside him and thrusting.  Lister bit down on his lip and tried not to make a sound, or think about what would happen if the door started rattling.  His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to focus, trying to keep a lid on the yelps of pleasure that wanted to escape him, so he didn’t see Rimmer ejecting the metal shaft from the screw-driver.  He didn’t realise Rimmer had done anything at all with the screwdriver until the thick, rubber-covered non-slip battery-powered base was placed against his balls and switched on.

            He made a sound somewhere between a cry of pleasure and a squeal of surprise as the sudden intense vibrations travelled through his balls and up the shaft of his cock.  “Oh, Dave,” Rimmer tutted, “And you were doing so well.”

            


	30. Chapter 30

            “You know,” Lister remarked as they walked back to the quad through the sunshine, “You told me you didn’t want to interfere with my studies.”

“I don’t,” Rimmer replied.

“I think you just did.  Because there’s no smegging chance of me ever being able to keep my mind on my work in that room ever again.”

“The smell of WD-40 will forever carry a special meaning for you from now on.”

“And I’ll have to excuse myself whenever anyone starts using that screwdriver.”

“At least you’re making progress with your training.  I only had to put my hand over your mouth right at the end.”

“Yeah, I’m a fast learner.”

“You,” Rimmer slipped an arm around his waist, “Are amazing.  And one hell of a tour guide.”

            As they started approaching the crowds of the open day again, Rimmer dropped his arm and moved back a few inches.  Lister understood why, but it still hurt.  It hurt even more because he knew there was no future where he could ever expect Rimmer to acknowledge their relationship openly in public.  The only affection he would ever get from this man would always be behind closed doors.  Underneath a tree across the green he saw Petersen and Petrovitch with some of the guys from his workshop, along with Kochanski and a couple of her girlfriends.  They had a stash of cans and were sprawling and joking in the sunshine.  Petrovitch saw him and waved madly, grinning.  Lister waved back, smiling ruefully.  At least one person he knew was never embarrassed to show affection in public.

            “Arnold!” One of the college board members plowed into their path, arm already outstretched to shake Rimmer’s hand, “How are you, old fella?”

“Well.  Thank you, Jeremy,” Rimmer replied crisply, suffering his hand to be shaken, “David here has just been showing me around.”

“Good lad!  Show him where his money’s going, eh?” he slapped Lister heartily on the shoulder.  Lister smiled politely.   Maybe the gossip hadn’t quite infiltrated every corner of the campus yet.  Or maybe this guy was just a doofus.  “You know,” he continued merrily, “You’ll never guess who I ran into at the club last week.  Only your big brother Howard, the handsome devil.”  _That_ caught Lister’s attention.

“Really,” Rimmer replied, the temperature of his voice plummeting so suddenly and drastically that Lister half expected to see ice forming over his eyeballs.  “He’s doing marvellously well, isn’t he?  Another promotion, he says.  Damned if I know what rank that makes him now, I can’t keep up with those brothers of yours.  And the girl he was with was just _charming_....”

“David,” Rimmer interrupted sharply, “Go and sit with your friends while Jeremy and I catch-up.  I’ll come and find you when we’re done.”

“I don’t mind waiting with you,” Lister chirped sweetly.  The look Rimmer turned on him was anything but sweet.  

“Nonsense,” he said firmly, “I’m sure none of this will interest you.  Run along.”  The last was said with such cold intensity that there was no mistaking it for anything other than what it was.  An order – not a suggestion or a request.  

            Lister weighed up his options for a moment, but eventually smiled obediently and walked away.  He could wait.  And a beer in the sun sounded very good right about now.  He dropped to the ground next to Kochanski and she handed him a can without being asked, “Hey,” she grinned, “You bored of that sexy rich guy already?”

“He’s talking business.  The beer looked far more interesting.”

“That’s nice.  You mean you only came over here ‘cos you like my cans?”

“Babe, they were the first thing I noticed about you.”

“Don’t let Rimmer catch you saying that.”

“Kristine,” Petrovitch interjected with far too much emphasis, “Why would Arnold Rimmer care if David likes your breasts?  They are not dating!  Isn’t that right, David?”

“Yep, that’s right,” Lister replied amused.  And it was, strictly speaking, the truth.  Kriss shook her head, rolling her eyes.  

“You know what’s great about you, Aleksander? Your exquisite grasp of subtlety.”

“We get it, Petrovitch,” Chen drawled, “It’s a secret.  Chill out.”

“I have no need to chill out,” Petrovitch responded huffily, “Because there is no secret.  Kristine is just teasing David, that is all.  Which she should not do, because some people might not know she is teasing and get the wrong idea.”

“You’re right,” Kriss smiled, “My bad.”

“I forgive you,” Lister grinned, “Thanks for defending my honour though, man.”

            Lister had just opened his second can when he saw Rimmer approaching.  He looked furious still.  Lister wondered what the big deal was.  He knew Rimmer was touchy about his family, but the fact he could swing from happy and playful to cold and moody so violently perturbed Lister slightly.  Was he always going to be this changeable and unpredictable?  Rimmer stomped to a halt above him.  “Dave,” he barked, “Come on, let’s go.”

“Awww,” Lister protested, “I just opened another drink.  Why don’t you sit down and meet my friends?”

“I said we’re leaving.”  Lister blinked in surprise at his harsh tone.  The soft chatter among the group faded to an uncomfortable silence.  Lister reddened, embarrassed.  

“What’s the hurry?” he joked, trying to diffuse things a little, “Are they about to slap a parking ticket on your private jet?”

“I’m going, David,” Rimmer snapped, “Are you coming or not?”

            Lister saw Petersen narrow his eyes and start getting to his feet.  _Oh smeg..._

“Olaf,” he quickly put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, pushing him firmly back down as he stood, “It’s okay.  We’ve got to go.  Whatever.”

“He shouldn’t speak to you that way,” Petersen glowered at Rimmer.  Rimmer glowered back.  

“No,” Lister agreed, throwing a glower of his own at Rimmer, “He shouldn’t.  But I’ll handle it, okay?  I’ll see you guys later.”  There was a muted chorus of ‘Bye Dave’ as he followed Rimmer out towards the sports field.

“What an arsehole,” Kochanski muttered once they were out of earshot.

“So,” Selby piped up blankly, “Are we still pretending they’re not fucking, or what?”

            Lister and Rimmer maintained a chilly silence as they walked back to the jet.  Lister slapped Rimmer’s hand away as he tried to help him buckle up.  Rimmer rolled his eyes and shoved the craft into gear with a little more force than was necessary.

Once they were in orbit, Lister turned to him, “So what the fuck was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Rimmer replied sarcastically, “If you would rather spend the weekend with your friends you only had to say.”

“What is your problem?  I just wanted to finish my drink!”

“You want to go back for it?”

“Oh, for smeg’s sake...”

“You can have a drink when we get back to the hub.  Why are you making such a fuss?”

“Maybe because you just treated me like your bitch in front of all my friends?”

“Technically, you are my bitch.  I have the paperwork to say so, or had you forgotten?”

“You are such a hypocrite!  You make all this fuss about how none of your friends can know about us, make me sign legal documents to protect your precious reputation, but when it comes to _my_ friends and _my_ reputation none of that matters?  You don’t think _I_ might like to keep some aspects of our relationship private?”

“Well, I’m terribly sorry your pretty friend Miss Kochanski saw you getting owned, but that’s what you signed up for, miladdo.”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse what?”

“Are you jealous?  Of Kriss?  Is that what this is about?”

“Should I be?” Rimmer flicked him a resentful look.

“I don’t _believe_ this...”

“You brought it up.  Tell me, David.  Do I have something to be jealous of?”

            Lister was speechless for a second, “You know,” he said finally, his voice simmering with anger, “For most people, that paperwork I signed would be proof enough of my commitment to you.  Not to mention the fact that barely an hour ago, I risked getting expelled to play along with one of your stupid games.  You’ve got some smegging nerve, man.”

“Oh, please,” Rimmer said scathingly, “Even if we had got caught, do you really think I would have let them expel you?”

“I don’t think you’d have any say in the matter.  You’re not a member of staff.”

“No, but I do have some considerable influence with the board.”

“I’d damn well hope so.  Otherwise you just jeopardised my whole future and everything I’ve worked for over the last two years for the sake of a quick thrill.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining too much at the time.”

“Hey, I’m just your submissive.  I have to do as I’m told, right?”

“That’s the idea.  It would be nice if you gave it a try once in a while.”

“What more do you want from me?  You’ve got a contract at home that gives you the right to do just about anything you like with me provided it’s not illegal and won’t cause actual bodily harm.  Is that not enough?  You want me to back down on the fisting issue?  Do I have to agree to submit to severe internal injuries to make you happy?”

“No, David, you just have to shut the fuck up and stop arguing with me.”

“If I don’t then who will?” Lister countered fiercely, “You go around acting like you’re lord and master of the whole universe.  You think you can buy off anyone and anything that gets in your way.  Well, I’ve got news for you, Rimmer.  It doesn’t actually work that way.”

“Actually, in my experience, it pretty much does.”

“Not with me it doesn’t!  I know what I signed up for and I will play the good little sub to the best of my ability, but that doesn’t mean you get to abuse the privilege and it doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit!”

              There was a ringing silence in the cockpit for a few moments.  “Anything else?” Rimmer asked crisply.  

“Yes, actually,” Lister fixed him with a look, “I wouldn’t mind an explanation as to why you suddenly turned into a complete arsewipe the moment someone mentioned your brother.”

“I have family issues.  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“So I just have to accept that you’re going to turn into a total bastard anytime someone reminds you that you didn’t spring fully-formed into this world from magic fairy dust?”

“It’s nothing to do with you.”

“It is if you’re going to take it out on me.”

“Just leave it, Dave,”

“You know all about my family background.  In fact, most of what you know about me you found out behind my back.  I think that entitles me to something.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Rimmer snapped, “I’ve had enough of your attitude today.  If you don’t drop this I am going to cane that backside of yours so hard you’ll be sleeping on your front for a week.  Is that what you want?”

“Go ahead,” Lister retorted, folding his arms, “I’m not the one who chickened out last time you made a threat like that.”

            Rimmer’s hands tightened on the controls and his nostrils flared dangerously.  “Chickened out?” he repeated softly.  _Oh crap..._ Lister’s subconscious cowered, _You and your big mouth._

“Yeah,” he replied, suddenly not feeling nearly as brave as he sounded, “If you can dish it out, I can take it, man.”

“If you’re still naïve enough to think that, then I really have been too soft on you,” Rimmer commented, “Maybe it is time I brought your training up to the next level.”

Lister swallowed hard, “So are you going to talk to me about your brother or not?” he asked, trying desperately to change the subject.  

“There’s nothing to tell.  I hate my brothers.  I hate my parents.  End of story.”

“But why?”

“Because they’re vile, atrocious people; that’s why.”

“The kind of people who’d cane someone for asking innocent questions?” Lister teased gently.  Rimmer didn’t laugh.  

“The kind of people who’d starve a child for not getting high enough marks in school,” he said dully, “The kind of people who’d buy a rack to stretch children who weren’t making the effort to grow fast enough.  Who never showed any love or compassion and cared only about appearances and success at whatever cost.”

“Are you serious?” Lister asked him.

“My father was a loon obsessed with the space corps.  My mother was a nymphomaniac and sociopath in a twin set.  They were a twisted pair of child-abusing socialites.”

Lister was lost for words, “Didn’t anyone know?  I mean, did nobody ever get suspicious?”

“On the outside we were like every other prim and proper, self-righteous, upper-middle class family on IO.  People described my father as ‘eccentric’ and my mother had so many affairs that it can’t have gone unnoticed, but so what?  Most of the women in our society were in loveless respectable marriages.  They’d all had flings with pool boys and gardeners.  You didn’t talk about it.  Only my mother didn’t stop there, she had sex with anything that moved.  Most of my teachers, my scout masters, my friends parents, my Uncle Frank...”

“It sounds like she was desperate for some kind of affection.”

“My mother wouldn’t have known what affection was if it came in her face,” Rimmer said sourly.  Lister winced.  “She didn’t equate sex with any kind of emotional attachment.  She didn’t have romances.  It was just fucking.”  _Doesn’t that sound familiar_ , Lister thought dryly.  

“I always thought you came from such a nice family,” he said, bewildered, “You’re so well-spoken, well-educated...”  _Everything you’re not,_ his subconscious reminded him snidely.  

“Yes,” Rimmer said bitterly, “That’s what everyone assumes.  IO is such a _nice_ place to grow up.  Full of _nice_ families and _nice_ schools in _nice_ neighbourhoods.  People who grow up to become officers, professors, politicians.  They don’t acknowledge deviancy and they don’t accept scandal.  If anyone ever guessed there was something very wrong in our house they ignored it because on the outside at least, we played by the rules.  So long as you maintain the façade of niceness, they sweep everything else under the carpet.”  

“But what about your brothers?” Lister asked, “Didn’t all the problems with your parents bring you closer together?”

“Hardly.  Our home was a harsher environment than the arctic wastes.  We had to compete for any kind of attention or approval from our parents and the only thing they ever rewarded was ruthlessness.   They bought my brother John a new bike when he was twelve for scoring the winning try at our school rugby match.”

“So?”

“Howard was about to win it but John broke his nose and took the ball.”

“Oh my god!”

“It was all about survival of the fittest.  And I was the youngest and weakest.  They made my life an unrelenting misery.  I left home the day I turned sixteen.”  

            Lister stared out at the red expanse of Jupiter coming closer and closer.  As an only child, he’d always wondered what it would be like to have brothers and sisters.  Maybe, just like being a multi-billionaire, it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.  “John is a test pilot now,” Rimmer continued, “Howard is apparently the youngest captain in the fleet.  Frank is a first officer and within the next twelve months will probably be taking the title of youngest captain from Howard.”

“So?” Lister took in Rimmer’s fixed expression and clenched jaw, “I mean, come on, you can’t be _jealous_.”

“You don’t understand.  It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d had something – some talent, some advantage – but I had nothing.  The three of them were always stronger, smarter and better-looking.  I was the runt of the litter.” 

“Oh, come on!  Like any of that matters now!”

“It does matter.  I never made it into the academy.  I never passed the engineering exams or astronavigation exams.  Before I left the space corps I was a first technician in charge of a lowly maintenance shift repairing vending machines.”

“What’s the big deal?  So you weren’t cut out for all that.  No-one could say you’re not a success now.  I mean – look at you!”  He leaned forward in his seat, “You’re Arnold Rimmer!”

“Exactly.  _Arnold_.  Not Captain Rimmer or first officer Rimmer.  And I never will be.”

            Lister reached over and put a hand on his arm, “This is nuts, man!  You can’t honestly believe that those smegging titles mean that they’re better than you.  Look at everything you’ve accomplished.”  Rimmer’s expression didn’t change.  “I bet they’re kicking themselves now for the way they treated you when you were a kid.”

“I’m sure they are,” Rimmer replied, “But not for the right reasons.”

“You all had a hideous messed-up childhood,” Lister told him gently, “But you’re an adult now.    Have you seen your brothers since you left home?  Or your parents?”

“Yes,” Rimmer said shortly, “Once.”  

“How did that go?”

“Not great.”

“Maybe you should contact them again.  Maybe it’s time to move on; to try and forgive.”

“I tried that before.  It didn’t work out.”

“What happened?”

“I ended up dead,” Rimmer told him flatly.


	31. Chapter 31

 

            When they touched down back at the hub, Rimmer marched sullenly into the apartment and threw himself down on one of the luscious sofas.  Lister curled up gingerly beside him, afraid but horribly fascinated.  “Let me get this straight,” he said cautiously, “Are you saying your family _murdered_ you?”

“It was an accident,” Rimmer said darkly, “ _Apparently_.  It was just after my company made the solid-o-gram breakthrough.  I had a phone call from my brother John inviting me to a family get-together for our father’s birthday.  The old man was in a wheelchair and almost completely gaga with dementia and Mumsy had taken it into her head to throw the decrepit fool a garden party.  John laid it on thick about how he didn’t have long and this might be the last opportunity for us all to make peace, that sort of thing.  If he’d called me six months earlier I would have told him where he could stick his invite and hung up the phone but now I was rich and successful I thought maybe I could handle it.  I decided to be magnanimous and go to the damn party.

            “It was dreadful from the very beginning.  Just being back in that house gave me chills.  My parents had invited all the usual suspects from their social circle; the headteacher from our old school was there, the old biddy who’d tried to teach me the piano and failed miserably, the ladies from my mother’s book club and all of their husbands who my mother had, undoubtedly, had sex with at some point.  My brothers were all there in their dress uniforms, being slapped on the back.  It was all so civilised and jolly but there was just this underlying feeling of...sickness to the whole thing.  Maybe because I hadn’t seen all these people for so long and they all seemed so old.  Or maybe because my father was barrelling around the place in his wheelchair shouting at people, waving an antique musket and demanding to know if anyone had seen the badger that was stealing his medication.  Anyway, the whole thing just felt...off somehow.

“I was drinking some punch with a few of the guests when my father came up to us.  Everyone had been congratulating me on the success of the company and how well I’d done, until the insane old codger started trumpeting about why wasn’t I wearing my uniform like my brothers were.  One of the ladies was trying to explain to him that I wasn’t in the space corps and that I was a very successful businessman but he wasn’t having it.  He started bellowing about how all his boys were in the space corps, he wouldn’t have allowed anything else.  People were starting to get uncomfortable and moving away.  My mother came over and tried to calm things down.  She told my father it was time for his nap and tried to take the musket away from him.  He held onto it, saying he needed it to shoot that damned badger.  One of the guests laughed nervously and said, “Here, that thing’s not actually loaded, is it?”  My mother smiled and said, “No, of course not.”  At which point my father shouted,

“Damn well is!  I loaded it myself!”  And then to prove the point he fired it.  Right where I happened to be standing.”

            Lister put his hands over his face, “Oh god!” he said, appalled.  Rimmer stared miserably out of the window, 

“I remember looking down at this huge great hole in my body and thinking ‘Well, that’s just typical.  I knew this was a big mistake.’  Next thing I knew, I was waking up in my lab three weeks later and I was a hologram.  I was dead.”

“Did it hurt?” Lister whispered.

“Not really,” Rimmer shrugged, “I suppose I was in shock.  Then I just blacked out.”

“That is so awful,” Lister hugged himself, imaging how it would feel to look down and be able to see through your own stomach.  He shuddered.  “But it _was_ an accident, right?  I mean he could have pointed that thing in any direction.”

“I suppose so.  But it’s all a bit convenient, isn’t it?  Nobody would ever have accused my batshit crazy father of premeditated murder.  And they weren’t exactly overcome with grief.  The reason I didn’t wake up for three weeks is because they were fighting a legal battle to stop me being revived as a hologram.”

“You’re kidding!  Why?”

“Money.  I think they thought because I never married and they were still technically my next of kin that they’d inherit my fortune.  They did this whole spiel about how traumatic my death must have been and it would be cruel to bring me back with those memories.  Interestingly, once my lawyers had made it clear that I’d made a will with very clear instructions about what was to happen to my assets and, even if I wasn’t revived, they still wouldn’t get a penny then they backed off.”

“And you haven’t heard from any of them since?”

“My mother sent me a card, apologising for the ‘unpleasantness’.”

“Unpleasantness???”

“That’s Mumsy,” Rimmer shrugged.

            Lister looked at Rimmer’s dark, troubled eyes.  This made sense of so much.  No wonder that frightened, abused little boy had grown into a man whose need for control ran so deep he had a built-in dungeon in his home.  No wonder he was so ruthless in his business dealings and didn’t do relationships.  When you suspected your own family of trying to kill you, who could you ever trust?  And yet still, despite how far he’d risen above his gruesome start in life, he considered himself a bad person.  He still thought he was a failure.  It broke Lister’s heart.

            He shuffled closer on the sofa and kissed Rimmer’s cheek.  He didn’t respond.  Lister kissed his jaw, then his neck.  He buried his fingers in his hair and tugged gently on his curls, turning his face to him so he could kiss his lips.  “What’s got into you?” Rimmer muttered.

“I want you to take me to the playroom,” Lister murmured, “And I want you to cane me.  Properly.  I want you to show me what you can do.”

“Really?” Rimmer looked confused.

“Yeah,” Lister whispered, “I’ve been bad today.  I deserve it.”

“You have been bad,” Rimmer conceded, obviously warming to the idea.

“And I want to please you.  I want to make you happy.” Lister stood up slowly, pulling Rimmer with him gently but insistently.  _Um...are you sure about this?_   His subconscious asked nervously.  Lister squashed the fears down.  If Rimmer had gone through all of that and come out the other side, then Lister could take this.  And if it helped Rimmer work out all the awful smeggy issues that his family had lumbered him with, then he’d do it gladly.

            In the warm red cocoon of the playroom, Rimmer helped him to undress.  It was strange, Lister thought as his clothes slipped away, but he felt incredibly calm.  Almost serene.  Maybe because he was the one who’d suggested this, maybe because he knew in himself why he was doing it.  Or maybe because he was finally starting to trust the man who was undressing him.  He knew now from experience that this probably wouldn’t be comfortable, but he also knew it wouldn’t be unbearable.  And he knew that if it became too much then he could make it stop.  What happened between those two points – bearable and unbearable – rested entirely with Rimmer, but that idea didn’t frighten him the way it used to. 

            Once Lister was naked, Rimmer cast an eye around the room.  “Now then,” he said thoughtfully, “What do I do with you?”  Lister followed his gaze warily.  There were any number of options Rimmer could pick from and some of the equipment in this room still baffled and perplexed him.  “We’ll keep it simple I think,” he decided finally.  He took Lister’s hand and drew him over to the large wooden X he’d noticed a couple of weeks ago.  “Face the wall, David,” Rimmer ordered softly.  Lister stood obediently as Rimmer buckled him tightly to the structure, the feel of his quick experienced fingers attaching the restraining straps to his wrists and ankles now oddly familiar...and oddly arousing.  “You’re getting hard already, baby,” Rimmer noted, kissing his shoulder, “Are you excited?”

“I guess it’s an automatic reaction now,” Lister grinned sheepishly, “Every time you tie me up it seems to lead to incredible orgasms.”

“You really are a fast learner,” Rimmer reached around and gently stroked his cock, coaxing his erection to a gloriously stiff point and making him sigh with pleasure and expectation.  “But I think your penis is getting a little ahead of himself.  Because there’s something else to come first, isn’t there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have to earn your orgasms in this room, miladdo.  And today that means accepting the repercussions of your backchat earlier.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to fetch a cane from that rack on the wall now.  And then I’m going to walk back here and I’m going to turn that delectable round bottom of yours the same colour as the Jupiter rise.  Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Lister whispered.  Rimmer leaned over him, squeezing his cock deliciously tight and pressed his lips to his ear.  “And when I’m done, when you’re broken and exhausted and the only thing holding you up is those straps around your wrists, _then_...I’m going to fuck you.”  

“Yes, sir,” Lister whispered again and oh _smeg_ but he was horny now.

            Rimmer’s bare feet were silent on the stone floor but when he was standing armed and ready behind Lister, he swished the cane smartly, making him jump and flinch.  Rimmer chucked darkly, “You’d better get used to that sound, baby.  It’s going to become very familiar.  Starting right now.”  There was another swish.  Lister cringed but the blow was barely more than a sharp tap.  He relaxed slightly.  Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.  Rimmer, as if reading his mind, piped up, “Don’t start feeling cocky.  We’re just warming up.”

            Sure enough, the taps gradually became harder and sharper, and picked up in rhythm.  Soon Lister began to feel the familiar warm throb he’d felt before when Rimmer had beat him, but this was building more quickly and he had an inkling that before long that warmth would begin to burn.  The cane swished behind him and Rimmer landed a sharp swipe across his buttocks that made him cry out.  That had _stung_.  He bit down on his lip as another equally hard blow bit at him.  It wasn’t awful.  It didn’t hurt as much as hitting his thumb with a hammer in the workshop, or even as much as getting a Chinese burn off one of the older kids in the orphanage when he was younger.  But dammit, it still hurt.  _What are you doing?_ His subconscious wailed plaintively.  _Look at you!  You’re chained up naked letting some guy hurt you for fun!  What’s happened to you?  Why are you doing this?_ Rimmer’s voice interrupted his inner turmoil, “How are you feeling, David?”

“I’m okay,” he gasped out.

“Are you feeling very sorry for your misbehaviour earlier?”

“Yes,” Lister nodded emphatically, “Very sorry.  Ever so sorry.  Sir.”

“And are you sorry because you made me cross, or are you sorry because your bottom is pink and sore?”

“Can I say a bit of both?” 

            Behind him, Rimmer chuckled again, “If that’s your answer then I don’t think you’re quite sorry enough.”  He snapped the cane across Lister’s buttocks again, harder this time and he yelped.  

“I’m sorry I made you cross, Mister Rimmer, sir!  Very, very sorry!”  Rimmer laughed softly.

“That’s better.  Now I want you to demonstrate how sorry you are.”

“How?” he asked helplessly, “Sir,” he added quickly.

“I know you’ve had just about enough.  You’ve held out as best you can and I’m very proud of you.  But it’s starting to hurt now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir” Lister admitted grudgingly.

“So, I’m only going to give you one more good hard stroke.  And to prove how sorry you are, you’re going to beg me for it.  Because even though you know it’s going to be painful, you know you deserve it.  Can you do that?”

            Lister swallowed hard.  Oh, this man knew how to push his buttons so well.  The final blow he could weather on his own terms – he was in pain but not in agony.  He could stand it.  The humiliation was going to hurt a lot more.  He forced himself to take a deep breath and remember why he’d agreed to this; why he’d more or less dragged Rimmer in here in the first place.  He closed his eyes and rested his moist forehead against the wall, sweating from a mix of nerves and pain and arousal; he just wanted this _over_.  Smeg it.  If he was going to do this, he might as well go for the Oscar.  “Please sir,” he said, “I’ve been such a bad, naughty, ungrateful boy.  I’m not fit to be your sub.  Please hit me again.  Hit me hard, hurt me, I don’t deserve your mercy.”

“Oh David,” Rimmer sounded amused but also just a little impressed, “Do you really insist?”

“Yes, sir.  Please punish me.  I can’t forgive myself unless you do.”  _Get on with it_ , he grumbled internally.  The pause in proceedings had given Lister time to become very aware of just how sore he now was, the marks on his bottom sizzling with heat as the blood rushed to the welts.  “Well, okay then,” Rimmer said graciously, obviously enjoying the little role-play, “Nobody could say I am not a generous master.”  The cane swished and Lister bit back a final cry as it bounced off his already bruised flesh.  “Thank you, sir,” he said through gritted teeth.

           He felt Rimmer’s arms slide around him, felt his tall lean body press close and instantly forgot all the anger and shame.  _This is why I’m doing this,_ he reminded his subconscious who had suddenly fallen strangely silent, _this right here_.  Rimmer’s skin felt blissfully cool against the red burn of his bottom and the moment his strong hand wrapped around Lister’s cock all other concerns vanished from his mind.  “Still so gorgeously hard,” Rimmer purred approvingly in his ear, “You are _amazing_ , David.”

            It was bizarre, he mused as Rimmer slid up into him and began to thoroughly obliterate any lingering feelings of resentment, just how quickly you could become used to not being able to move during sex.  With his wrists and ankles still spread and tethered all he could do was moan and writhe desperately against the impossibly strong figure cradling him.  Helpless in Rimmer’s arms, it didn’t take long before he was dancing on the brink of orgasm, gasping out words that just weeks ago he would never have expected to hear himself saying in his life, “Oh god, come inside me, please sir, please, please, I want to feel it, I want to feel you come, _oh_ _god_...”  Moments later it hit him, that shot of pure fizzing gold that seemed to go straight through him, through every part of him, and set him on fire.  Who knew that sex with a hologram could be so smegging addictive?  Who cared about the spanking and the caning or even the damn fisting for that matter?  Surely there was no amount of pain this man could inflict that could make him scream like this.  And hell, surely that made it all worth it?

 

  


	32. Chapter 32

“Hey,” Lister nudged Rimmer’s head gently with his own, as he leaned panting against his back, “I’m getting pins and needles here.”

“Oh, okay,” Rimmer said grudgingly.  He slid down Lister’s body and unstrapped his ankles, then stood up to unbuckle his wrists.  Lister flexed his tingling fingers and gave his hands a shake.  Once you’d reached orgasm, he’d learned over the last few weeks, the bondage thing got old pretty quickly.  He was also feeling fairly sticky after their earlier session in the workshop, and now this.  “Is it okay if I take a shower now?” he asked carefully, still massaging Rimmer’s ego.

“Yes, I think so,” Rimmer stood back to let him pass, “We’ll both have a freshen up and then grab some dinner, how does that sound?”

“Great,” Lister said honestly.  They shared a smile.  Rimmer leaned over and kissed him, somewhat unexpectedly, 

“You did really well,” he said after a beat.

“Hey,” Lister grinned, “They make ‘em tough in Liverpool.”

“They don’t make ‘em quite like you anywhere in the universe,” Rimmer said fondly.

“Back atcha,” Lister quipped, trying not to squee like a little girl at the praise.

            He scooped up his clothes and walked out of the playroom, down the hall to his own room.  He dropped the clothes on the chair and headed straight into the bathroom and the huge walk-in shower.  As he ducked under the hot water, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the floor length mirror opposite.  He looked...good.  Moreton might be a sadistic s.o.b but Lister had to admit this programme of exercise, good diet and frequent strenuous sex was working.  He’d never looked this fit and healthy before.  He angled his body and looked over his shoulder to assess the damage.  His buttocks were an angry shade of red but didn’t look like they were darkening into bruises and there was no sign of blood.  The caning had hurt more than anything else Rimmer had done to him over the past few weeks, but here he was in one piece.  If that was as bad as this was going to get, then maybe he could start to relax a little.

            The bathroom door clicked discreetly and Lister turned to see Rimmer standing there naked, watching him through the steam.  “Hello,” he said, slightly stupidly.

“Hello,” Rimmer returned the greeting with a small smile, “May I join you?” 

“Of course.  You can do anything you like.  Sir,” Lister reminded him.  Rimmer walked over, his movements as fluid and dangerous as a tiger on the prowl.  He stepped up close to Lister under the shower and kissed him.  After a moment, he took hold of his shoulders and turned him around, examining his backside.  “Does it hurt much, baby?” he asked, kissing the back of his neck lightly.

“No,” Lister said, “Just a little bit tender, that’s all.”

“Good,” Rimmer turned him around and wrapped him in his arms, kissing him again.

“I should...uh...probably warn you,” Lister whispered between kisses, “I’m not quite ready for another round yet.  But you go ahead if you want me.”

“What I want,” Rimmer told him, “Is to bathe you.  I want to wash every inch of you myself.  And by the time I’m done, I think you’ll be ready again.”  He poured some shower crème into his hands and began to massage it generously into Lister’s skin.  “Oh...okay,” Lister agreed dozily.  The firm skilful pressure of Rimmer’s hands, the warm steady lull of the water and the fact he’d had two strong orgasms today already were all combining to make him docile and a little sleepy.  He was happy to run with this.

            He stood obediently while Rimmer soaped him all over, lifting his limbs as instructed so Rimmer could reach every part of him.  When his front was slippery and sudsy, Rimmer tugged him close, “Come here,” he murmured, “Put your arms up around my neck.  And rest your head on my shoulder.”  That was an order Lister didn’t need to think twice about obeying.  He closed his eyes and leaned blissfully against the gorgeous bulk of Rimmer’s chest as his arms went snugly around him and he began to wash his back.  Oh, this was heavenly.  He could have almost gone to sleep if it wasn’t for the fact that even having fucked twice today already, the sensation of that stupendous body wet and slick against his made his insides knot with want.  

            Rimmer’s hands worked their way down his spine, then lower to cup and caress his buttocks.  Lister moaned softly against his neck.  “Too sore?” Rimmer asked against his ear.  “No,” Lister breathed, “Amazing.”  The skin was so tender and super-sensitive that every brush of Rimmer’s cool, slippery, soapy fingers made him shudder with delight.  Tentatively, those fingers moved inwards, delving into the crease of his buttocks.  Lister was in such a daze, so caught up in what he was feeling, that he didn’t grasp Rimmer’s intention until those fingers were sliding up deep inside him.  He gasped, instinctively pushing himself up onto tiptoe in response to the invasion.  Rimmer kissed his temple, still holding him tight, “Just relax, Dave.  Let me do this.”

            They rocked together under the spray.  Lister reached down and grasped Rimmer’s cock – god, was the man _ever_ not hard? – as his fingers did something wonderful to his prostate.  It seemed only moments before Rimmer was pressing against him, grunting with satisfaction as something that tingled like hot fizzy ice trickled down Lister’s leg.  Lister sighed, proud but also just a tad disappointed.  Despite how good this felt, his cock was still only at half mast, but every other part of him – mind and body – was aching for more; another orgasm a lingering aching promise in the distance.  “Don’t you worry, baby,” Rimmer whispered, kissing his face, “We’re not done with you yet.”  Releasing Lister from his tight grasp, he sank to his knees before him.  Lister’s prostate throbbed indignantly at the sudden cessation of attention and he moaned as Rimmer licked him back to a full, pounding erection.  He was expecting him to suck him in, take him deep into his throat to finish this quickly but instead those strong arms spun him around, pressing him up against the wet tiles.  He felt Rimmer’s arms around his hips, holding him up; he felt his hand curl purposefully around his cock; and then his eyes flew wide and he made a desperate choked sound in his throat as Rimmer’s tongue flicked teasingly over his tight entrance, before pushing up and into him.

 

            “You know,” Lister purred later that night, as he lay on his bed wrapped in Rimmer’s arms, “Every time I think I’m on top of this, that there’s nothing else new you can show me or surprise me with, you still manage to prove me wrong.”

“That’s my job,” Rimmer kissed his forehead, “And that’s what I promised you.  I’m glad you feel I’m keeping up my end of our arrangement.”

“I don’t think there’s any doubt about that,” Lister yawned and stretched, “Smeg, but I am so effing tired.”

“Did I wear you out?”

“Like a rally bike’s tyres.  I’m a wreck.”

“Hungry?”

“Just tired.  I feel like I could sleep for three million years.”

“Listen,” Rimmer took his hand, “I’m...sorry.  About earlier.”

“Huh?”

“Our fight?”

“Oh _that_ ,” Lister said dismissively, “Forget about it, man.”

“You were right though.  It was wrong of me to act that way in front of your friends.  I apologise.”

“Thanks.  And I’m sorry I pushed you into talking about your family when it’s not really any of my business.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s been a long time since any of those bastards were able to upset me,” Rimmer told him, smiling ruefully, but Lister saw it for the flimsy bravado it was.  Judging by Rimmer’s behaviour today, the wounds that his family had inflicted on him were probably never going to heal completely.  

            Rimmer gazed down at him thoughtfully, gently stroking his hair.  “It must be wonderful to be adopted,” he remarked lightly, “To know that people who aren’t really related can love you so much.  To know that someone truly wanted you...and picked you out of the crowd - chose _you_ to be part of their family.”  

“Most of us tend to focus on the whole ‘being chucked out by your real family’ side of it,” Lister remarked wryly.  Rimmer shook his head firmly, 

“Nobody would have chucked you out.  Anyone can see that.  Someone wanted you to have a better life.  Someone loved you enough to make sure you had everything you deserved, even if it meant giving you up.  I’m sure of it.”  

Lister shook his head, forcing a short laugh, “My real mother,” he said, “Left me in a cardboard box in a pub.  Didn’t even bother taking me to an adoption agency, just shoved me under the pool table and left.”

“I’m sure she had her reasons,” Rimmer said softly.  Lister shrugged,

“Maybe.  But we’ll never know.”

“And it doesn’t change the fact that you still had a mother who loved you.  That’s more than I had.”

“Maybe,” Lister lowered his eyes, “But not enough to carry on living for me.”

“I’m sorry, Dave.  I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay.”

“It must have been awful.”

“No point dwelling on the past.”

“Are you...I mean...were you ever...angry?  About what she did?”

“I suppose.  But mostly I was just sad.  I never really blamed her.”

“Why not?”

“The poor woman went through hell trying unsuccessfully to conceive a baby of her own.  Then her husband ups and dies, leaving her alone to bring up a child that’s not really hers.  I think if I had been their real son – if she’d been able to look at me and see something of him looking back – it might have been different.  But there was nothing in me for her to cling to.  So she just...drifted away.”

            Rimmer took his hand and kissed it, his fingers treading through Lister’s.  “I wonder,” he said wearily, “Who you and I would be now if we’d had normal lives...”

 

_The rain drummed glumly on his bedroom window.  Gran would be here soon and she’d make things better – make the house smell of strong perfume and strong coffee and perhaps teach him a new card game to while away this dreary afternoon.  Today was going to be one of those days; he’d known it as soon as Mum had told him to go and play upstairs with that far away look in her eyes that was almost a permanent fixture now.  She wanted him to be quiet – out of sight and out of mind – while she drank gin with a shaking hand and stared at some place far away.  Sure enough, at the usual time he heard the tumble of Gran’s keys and the scrape-clunk of the door lock.  He dropped the toy robot he was dismantling and flew to the bedroom door, calling her name before he was even out of the room._

_Her rough voice floated back to him, full of love that was in far too short a supply in this house now, “Hiya pet!” and he tumbled eagerly down the stairs, ready for the hug that was always waiting.  He was only halfway down when her voice rang out again, “David!  Don’t come down here!”  He froze, wounded and confused._

_“Why not?”_

_“Go back to your room.  I’ll come up in a moment.”_

_“Aw, Gran...”_

_“Do as I say!”  He tiptoed reluctantly back up the stairs, sat down on his bed and waited.  Gran always hugged him when she came in.  Always._

_He heard the muffled sound of her voice on the telephone.  Then silence.  What seemed like a long time later, there was a knock at the door.  He peered out of his window and saw an unfamiliar black car parked on the street outside the house.  There were more voices and then slow heavy footsteps on the stairs.  When his gran finally opened the bedroom door, he saw her eyes were red.  He gazed up at her, both anxious and resentful, “Am I in trouble?”_

_“No, pet.”  She held out her arms and he went to them, relieved and not-relieved because something wasn’t right here.  Not right at all.  “Where’s your little suitcase?” she asked, stroking his head, “The one we took to_ _Colwyn_ _Bay_ _last summer?”_

_“In the wardrobe.”_

_“Pack yourself some clothes and some toys.  You’re coming to stay with me for a while.”_

_“How long?”_

_“I don’t know, Pet.”_

_He stepped back from the hug and looked up at her.  A part of him, a small hateful part, that would lurk at the back of his mind forever piped up triumphantly that he had always known this would happen someday.  He swallowed hard.  “She doesn’t want me anymore,” he said flatly, “Does she?”  His gran cupped his face and her eyes flooded,_

_“Oh, Dave,” she told him, “Don’t ever think that.  Your mam...she can’t take care of you now.  But don’t ever think it’s because she didn’t love you.”  He packed his small bag and pulled it down the stairs.  The kitchen door was closed and two strange men were standing outside it like guards.  One of them was the doctor who’d given him his flu shot last year.  They were talking, but he could see it was a front.  What they were really doing, was trying not to look at him._

_His gran took his hand and led him through the front door and down the path.  Away from this house, away from his little room.  He looked back over his shoulder at that black car in the rain.  And realised that when his gran had spoken about his mother – it had been in the past tense._

 

Not quite ten years later, Lister shook himself awake, tears dripping down his face.  The room was dark, but the softness of the bed enveloping him and the enticing scent of a certain aftershave were enough to remind him quickly of where he was.  He wiped his cheeks and flipped his wet pillow over, curling up tightly beneath his thick duvet and silently chastising himself.  It felt wrong to cry in a place this luxurious and beautiful. The mattress rocked slightly and a strong arm curled protectively around him, pulling him back snugly against a broad hard chest.  “Are you crying?” Rimmer murmured.

“I’m okay,” Lister whispered faintly, “Just a dream.”  The arm squeezed him.

“Go back to sleep, baby.  You won’t remember in the morning.”

Obediently, Lister closed his eyes, ready for sleep to carry him away to more pleasant dreams.  The past was behind him and the present, here in Rimmer’s apartment on Jupiter, was pretty damn good.  

He was almost completely gone when the realisation hit him, warmer than the world’s most expensive duvet, that Rimmer hadn’t left.  For the first time, they were sleeping in the same bed.


	33. Chapter 33

            The next morning, Lister reached out, eager for touch.  Eager to be held and kissed and wished a good morning.  When his fingers found nothing but cool, crinkled sheets, he opened his eyes.  Apart from him, the bed was empty.  Rimmer was gone.  Lister ran his fingers over the pillow opposite.  Had he imagined it?  Had his dream left him feeling so low and alone that he’d fantasised the soothing presence of his lover to make himself feel better?  Crushed, he kicked off the covers and got up.  It was stupid, but he felt like this bed had lied to him.  He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and went to find food.  

Rimmer was in the sitting-room, dressed and watching the financial news.  “Morning,” he said cheerfully.

“Morning,” Lister replied, trying not to sound as sulky as he felt.

“Mrs Jones made waffles.  She kept some warm for you.”

“Thanks.”  Lister ventured into the kitchen, retrieved his waffles and browsed the selection of toppings left out for his inspection.  He returned to the sitting room with a plate stacked high with fruit, cream and syrup.  Rimmer raised an eyebrow, “How is that in line with your diet plan?” he enquired pointedly.  

“I’m feeling the need for sugar,” Lister muttered - _and comfort food_ , he added to himself.  

“Please yourself,” Rimmer settled back with his coffee, “But you know what Moreton will do to you if you’ve put on weight next week...”

“If I have to choose between a washboard and a waffle, I’m taking the waffle.”

“You know, you have cream on the end of your nose,” Rimmer told him, amused.

            Lister wiped his face, embarrassed.  He watched Rimmer sipping his coffee with a heavy heart.  This all felt so right, so cosy, but was it all a sham?  Was he the only one who felt like the bond between them was growing?  “Were you in my bed last night?” he blurted out.  Rimmer looked at him, surprised.

“Yes,” he said, “For a little while.”

“I wasn’t sure if I dreamed it,” Lister toyed with his waffle.

“You were tossing and turning.  I stayed with you until you settled.”

“Why?”

“To make sure you were okay.  You...uh...woke up crying at one point.”

“I remember.” 

“What were you dreaming about?”

“My mum,” Lister replied shortly.

            Rimmer dipped his head, his expression guilty.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve stirred up bad memories for you.”

“I’m the one who started with all the family smeg, not you.  And like I said, there’s no point dwelling on the past.”

“No.”

“I just...” Lister made a little pattern in his whipped cream, “I thought you’d still be there when I woke up.”

“Why?” Rimmer asked, apparently surprised; and Lister’s stomach shrivelled inside him.  

“I don’t know,” he replied, defeated.  _Maybe because I was starting to think you cared_ , he didn’t say.

            Rimmer reached over, dipped a finger in his syrup and held it out for Lister to lick.  Lister did so, but without much enthusiasm.  Rimmer frowned, concerned.  “You’re still feeling down, I can tell.  Would it help to know I’ve planned something nice for us to do today?”

“Really?” Lister tried to sound excited, “What are we up to?”

“It’s a surprise.  But I think you’ll like it.”  Rimmer stood up and kissed his forehead, “You finish off that calorie-mountain.  The sooner you’re ready to go out, the sooner you find out the surprise.”

            Lister ate, showered and dressed, trying to shake off the sense of depression.  What reason did he have to feel sad?  Their non-relationship hadn’t changed one single parsec from what it had been yesterday, when he’d been happy as a monkey in a banana tree.  The knowledge that Rimmer had eventually returned to his own bed – as he always did – shouldn’t matter in the slightest.  _Maybe now you’ll stop dreaming,_ his subconscious sneered, _and accept the reality. You’re not special, kiddo.  You’re just the latest in a long line of playthings.  Live with it._

When Rimmer finally led him up to the roof and the RimmerJet, he forced himself to smile and look excited.  If this was it, if he really was nothing more than another toy to be thrown away at will, then he might as well do his best to be a fun toy and put that day off for as long as possible.

            When the jet touched down ten minutes later, Lister looked about curiously.  They’d landed in a field somewhere.  He could see buildings a short walk away and some high fences, but couldn’t make out where they were.  A bright, slightly battered looking, 4x4 was trundling towards them.  “Are you going to tell me yet?” he looked up at Rimmer.  Rimmer smiled, “It will become clear in a moment.”  The car pulled up beside them, painted with green jungle leaves and a large logo.

“Titan Zoo?” Lister exclaimed and this time his broad grin was genuine, “Arnold Rimmer, is this going to be like a normal-person date?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rimmer replied, “I’ve never done normal-person dating.”  

“I’ve never been here before!” Lister bubbled happily as they climbed into the back of the car, “I always wanted to come as a kid!”

“Well, then I hope it lives up to expectations.”

            Inside the gate, Lister pulled open the small map they’d been given of the site.  “Where do you want to go first?” Rimmer asked.

“Penguins!  No, wait – wallabies!  Ooh...or maybe pigeons, aren’t they extinct in the wild now?”

“Let’s just walk,” Rimmer put an arm around his waist and started steering him down the path, “And see what we find.”

            Lister wandered from pen to pen, entranced.  As a poor city boy all his life, he’d never been up close to animals like this before.  This had been purely the realm of TV documentaries.  “I can’t believe how quiet it is,” he remarked as they watched a tiger stretch in the sun, “It’s like we’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”

“Mmm,” Rimmer replied vaguely.  Lister looked at his carefully blank expression and something began to dawn on him.  

“In fact,” he said, “I don’t think we’ve seen another person since we came in.”

“Really?” Rimmer asked innocently.  Lister turned to him, folding his arms across his chest, 

“Arnold Rimmer,” he said pointedly, “Did you hire out the whole of Titan Zoo just for the two of us?”  Rimmer smirked guiltily.

“Maybe.”

“Why???”

“I thought it would be nice.  Let’s face it, having to shove bratty kids out of the way to get a glimpse of the meerkats isn’t much fun, is it?”

“This is kind of an extreme solution, don’t you think?  There’s probably a queue of crying children outside the gates as we speak who’ve been looking forward to this for months!”

“They can open again when we’ve gone.  It’s not the end of the world.”  _And this way_ , Lister’s subconscious mused bitterly, _Nobody will see you together.  How convenient._   “Anyway,” Rimmer continued, “there’s something special I wanted to do and it’ll be easier if there’s no one around.”  

Lister was immediately on guard, “Oh my god,” he said, “Is this going to be some kinky role-play thing, where I’m the caged animal and you’re my tamer or something?”  Rimmer stared at him, clearly surprised and a bit baffled.  

“No,” he said, amused, “Nothing of the sort.  Where did _that_ come from?”

“I have no idea,” Lister replied quickly, embarrassed, “I would never have had a thought like that in a million years before I met you.  You’re a bad influence, man.”

“How satisfying.    I suppose I’d better put your mind at rest or who knows what you’ll come up with next.”

            Rimmer led him across the park to the panda enclosure.  In the outside pen, a fluffy bear was chewing thoughtfully on a stick of bamboo.  “Wait here a moment,” Rimmer knocked briskly on the door of the inside shelter.  “Do I get to feed the panda bear?” Lister asked, excited.

“You’ll see,” Rimmer replied enigmatically.  There was the sound of keys jingling and a lady keeper in a dark green uniform opened the door.  

“Mister Rimmer, Mister Lister.  Please come inside.”  They followed her down a short hallway lined with bags of straw and other odd items that were obviously necessary for the happiness and well-being of a panda in captivity.  “This is a very exciting time for us,” the woman said, “Our breeding programme is receiving attention right across the solar system right now.  The only other centre doing work this successful is back on Earth in China.  We’re extremely grateful for your generous donation, Sir.  It will make such a difference to these little guys.”

“Very glad to help,” Rimmer replied politely.  Lister looked up at him in surprise,

“I thought all your business dealings were technical investments,” he said, “I didn’t know you gave money to causes like this.”

“I don’t normally.  But I figured if I was going to ask the zoo for a favour, they should get something in return.”

           Before Lister could ask what the favour was, the woman stopped in front of a pair of double doors with a wide smile.  “Gentlemen,” she said, “I’d like to welcome you to the Titan Panda Nursery.”  She opened the door and ushered them inside.  Lister’s eyes widened.  “Oh.  My.  God.” He said flatly.

            In a large playpen in a centre of the room, were five fluffy baby panda bears, each about the size of an eighteen-month old child.  The keeper beckoned them and they leaned over the edge of the playpen.  “Oh my god!” Lister said again, more softly, watching the baby bears crawl and tumble around.  

“These cubs haven’t been introduced to the public yet,” the keeper told them, “We’re waiting until they’re a little bit older and more confident before we start letting them out.  You’re the first non-staff members to meet them.”

“This is incredible,” Lister sighed, “They’re so beautiful.”

“Would you like to hold one?” she asked.  

“Can I?” Lister was astounded.

“Of course,” She reached down and plucked a round furry bundle from the pack and settled it carefully into Lister’s arms.  Its fur was soft as down, its small paws as dainty as a cat’s.  Lister gazed down into its glossy jewel-like black eyes and felt his own eyes welling up.  “Oh wow,” he whispered, “This is amazing.”

“They’re very docile creatures,” the keeper told him, “And at this age they quite like being handled.  In the wild, they’d always have their mother with them, you see.  They like the closeness.”  A man in a keeper’s uniform entered the room with a tray of baby bottles full of warm milk.  “Here,” the lady took one and handed it to Lister, “You can give him his lunch.”  

            Lister sat down in a chair to bottle-feed the cub.  He beamed as it suckled hungrily, drops of milk dotting the black fur around its mouth.  “I can’t believe this.  Isn’t this the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen?” he chirped, delighted.  Rimmer smiled at him tenderly, 

“I don’t know.  I’d say that panda bear is only the second cutest thing in this room.”  Lister looked up at him and their eyes met.  For a moment his heart swelled... and then he remembered waking up alone in his bed that morning and his smile faltered.  “Don’t say stuff like that,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” Rimmer asked, surprised.  Lister turned away from him, fixing his eyes back on his furry companion so Rimmer wouldn’t see his expression.  

“I don’t want to start getting confused.”

“About what?”

“About you and me.  Don’t make me start thinking this is anything more than it is.”

“What do you...” Rimmer started to say but he was interrupted.  The cub had finished his milk and was starting to keen and squirm in Lister’s arms.  Lister stood up and carried him back to the playpen, 

“I think this little guy misses his brothers and sisters.”  He set him down gently back in the pen and the cub lumbered back to its family.  

He took a deep breath and turned back to face Rimmer, “Thank you so much for this, man.  It’s been amazing.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

“I’m glad,” Rimmer said.  He held out a hand, “Come on.  Let’s see if they’ll let you feed mama bear too.” 

            Rimmer didn’t push the matter and to Lister’s mind that told him all he needed to know.  

            When they returned from the zoo, he sat in the kitchen while Mrs Jones cooked a gorgeous dinner and quizzed him about the day’s events.  When she’d taken her leave, Rimmer opened a bottle of champagne and they lounged on the sofa getting pleasantly tipsy and even more pleasantly intimate.  At some point, Lister ended up sprawled across the coffee table, his wrists bound snugly with his belt, while Rimmer did incredibly creative things with the remaining champagne.  The next day they wallowed lazily in the spa on the lower level of the penthouse and Lister discovered that Jacuzzi bubbles could be just as much fun as champagne ones when deployed properly.

            Eventually, the evening rolled around.  Rimmer dropped him at the shuttleport on Saturn and kissed him goodbye.  Through it all, Lister smiled and laughed and enjoyed himself very thoroughly.  And through it all, he tried not to think about the brief moment between dreams when he’d thought there was something more beyond this crazy, exotic affair.  He tried not to think about how it had felt in those brief beautiful moments he had thought he’d seen a future.

 

When the car dropped him at his dorm, Petersen, as always, was planted in front of the television.  “Hey man,” Lister greeted him.

“Hey,” Petersen waved an arm vaguely in the direction of his room.  “Package came for you.  I left it on your bed.”  Surprised, Lister went to investigate.  The package was big and squashy.  He sat down on the bed and tore off the wrapping, intrigued.  Underneath was a large cuddly toy panda bear.  He picked it up and squeezed it, burying his face in the soft synthetic fur, unsure whether to laugh or burst into tears.  

“What the hell is that?”  Curiosity had obviously got the better of Petersen, who was standing with folded arms in his doorway.  

“A present,” Lister said simply.

“If that’s his way of saying sorry for the way he treated you the other day, it’s properly lame.  The guy’s a billionaire – he could have at least bought you a car.  You’re not a twelve year old girl.”

“I don’t need a car,” Lister said quietly.

“And you need a huge great bastard of a stuffed animal in your life?”

“And I don’t think it’s to say sorry,” Lister continued thoughtfully, ignoring him, “I’m not sure what it’s meant to say.”

“Well, it ought to be.  I can’t believe you let him talk to you like that.”

“It’s okay.  He apologised for all that, man.”

“That doesn’t make it _okay_.”

“He’d just heard...he’d had some bad news, that’s all.  He was still upset.”

            Petersen’s troubled expression didn’t change, “I know it ain’t my business but I’ve got to say it.  I don’t like that guy and I’m not sure he’s good for you.”

“You’re probably right,” Lister stroked the bear, not looking up.  Petersen sighed hard,

“You’re in this thing deep, aren’t you, _min_ _ven_?”

“It’s just sex.”

“Bullshit.  That look on your face tells me different.”

“You know I can’t talk about it.”

“Are you in love with him, David?”

            Lister closed his eyes.  He breathed deeply, his fingers tightening on the panda.

“No,” he said.

“Then walk away.”  Lister opened his eyes in surprise.  Petersen’s expression was serious.  “If you’re only in this thing for the fucking and fast cars then back out now.  Before you get hurt,” he said.  Lister stared down at the bear in his lap.  _He’s right_ , his subconscious whispered, _Look at you.  What are you going to be like after three months of this_?  _What are you going to do when the axe falls and he cuts you off?  You can’t handle this._   _You can’t do it._   But what was the alternative?  To turn his back on the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him?  To give up on the man who had changed his life, taught him things about his body and his sexuality that he’d never even dreamed of?  He had to see this through, or he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. 

“I know what I’m doing, Olaf,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” he replied.  “You’re a big boy and I figure you can take care of yourself, but I worry about you.”

“Hey, I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know you are.  And maybe it is just that you still look a good few years younger than you really are.  But, whatever it is, there’s something vulnerable about you – something that attracts guys like Arnold Rimmer and Sam Murray.”

“Don’t lump Rimmer in with that asshole,” Lister drew himself up, offended, “He is _nothing_ like Sam Murray.”

“All I know,” Petersen didn’t acknowledge Lister’s flare up, “Is when that guy looks at you, I see a wolf.  I see a predator.  Don’t be a sheep, Dave.  That’s all I’m saying.”

            Lister half-smiled, “I appreciate the concern, man.  But it’s really hard to take this conversation seriously when I’m holding a giant stuffed panda.”

“What are you going to do with that thing?”

“Stick it at the end of the bed, I suppose.”

“Fuck me,” was all Petersen could manage in response to that.  His masculinity clearly affronted, he exited, shaking his head.

            Lister balled up the wrapping paper and spotted a note wedged inside.  He tugged it out and read it.  _A little memento of this weekend.  For the record – still not as cute as you.  Laters baby._

Lister cradled his head, reading the note over and over, before scrunching it up and throwing it out with the wrapping.  “What’s he trying to tell me, bear?” he asked the panda sadly, “and why the fuck am I asking you?”  The panda stared back at him with blank black eyes.  It had no solution and neither did he.

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

            The following Wednesday morning, after a final few late nights of hard graft with Petrovitch, Lister sat down at his laptop and wrote an e-mail to Rimmer.

 

_Well, here it is.  It still needs some polishing (spell checking and references, all that smeg) but this is basically what we’re handing in.  Let me know what you think and please be honest.  Final draft is due in on Friday._

_Dave x_

 

            He attached the thesis document and sent it off, then sat back with a sigh.  All that work, all those hours of study and debate.  There was so much riding on this, he wasn’t sure if he was eager for Rimmer’s response or dreading it.  Petrovitch seemed confident in what they’d produced and Lister trusted his judgement, but ultimately they were both kids playing with a hypothesis.  What if they’d got it all totally wrong?

            Now that his major project was more or less done and dusted, he put in some extra hours in the workshop and at the bar – building up academic credits and money.  The date for his scholarship application was the next deadline looming over him and the more he had of both, the better his application would look.

            On Thursday night after he got in from work, he quickly checked his inbox before heading to bed.  There was a brief message from Rimmer.

 

_It’s brilliant.  I am very proud of you.  We’ll celebrate tomorrow night._

_Laters baby x_

            Lister smiled widely, his heart lifting.  When he handed the final draft in at the Deanery office the next morning, he did so with a renewed sense of confidence.

            He received a message from Rimmer not long after, telling him to be out on the sports field at seven – he was coming to pick him up in the Jet.  Lister texted back playfully.   _Is_ _Taylor_ _finally on holiday?_   The response was swift.

 _-No, he isn’t.  But I thought a clever boy like you deserved a personal service tonight_.

 _-Can’t argue with that_ , Lister replied smugly, wondering what else was going to be included in tonight’s personal service.

            At seven pm sharp he was perched on one of the side benches lining the sports field, watching the sky.  As it was predominantly a technical college, Saturn didn’t have a flourishing sports programme, so the facilities were pretty basic.  Students were encouraged to take part in extra-curricular activities like football and athletics to try and dispel the slightly nerdy image of the centre but even on a fine summer evening like this there were very few people around.  Apart from two guys running laps, there was just Lister.  Which was, he mused as a familiar rumbling sound above his head grew more distinct, probably a good thing.  It would have been very embarrassing if Rimmer had dropped in and crushed the football team in the middle of practise.  

            Across the way, he saw the two joggers look up.  Seconds later they dropped their eyes and focused their gaze on him, waiting patiently on the bench.  Lister met their enquiring looks head on, but inside he was squirming.  The Rimmer logo was now clearly visible on the descending craft and although he didn’t know these guys, he was fairly certain that by now they’d put two and two together and worked out who he was.  Perhaps Olaf and Aleks had a point – if Rimmer wanted to keep their involvement under wraps – for whatever reason - he needed to start being more discreet.  On the campus of Saturn Tech it had already moved beyond the level of mere gossip.  If they weren’t careful, it wouldn’t be long before the whispers spread out of the college.  

            When the jet had settled on the grass, Lister scurried over and clambered in quickly, aware he was still being watched.  “Hey,” Rimmer piped up as he slammed the door and started to buckle up, “Don’t I get a kiss?”

“We’ve got company,” Lister told him, keeping his expression neutral.

“Relax, the windows are tinted.  No-one can see in.”

“Maybe not,” Lister flopped back against the head-rest, “But the fact they saw me getting in this thing is probably enough.  What they can’t see, they’ll make up.”

            Rimmer leaned over and kissed him firmly, “Whatever they make up,” he told him, “Is not going to be half as interesting as the truth.  Besides, if people start asking awkward questions then we still have a cover story.”

“I don’t know if that’s sufficient anymore.  Do you pick up all your interns personally in your private jet?”

“Well,” Rimmer smiled evasively, “Let’s just see how it goes, shall we?”

            They took off, Lister still a little puzzled by Rimmer’s lackadaisical attitude to the situation.  He seemed to be taking this all very lightly.  Maybe, he pondered hopefully, Rimmer was warming to the idea of going public with their relationship.  Not in detail, obviously, but perhaps he might be getting to the stage where he could introduce Lister as his boyfriend.  _Don’t hold your breath_ , his subconscious sniped, _It’s more likely he’s just decided to pay off anyone who tries to blackmail him and stop worrying about it_.  

“Did you get everything handed in okay?” Rimmer asked, as they streamed towards Jupiter.  

“Yep,” Lister smiled a little nervously, “Nothing else to do now but wait for my end of year results.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Rimmer said, and the confidence in his voice was oddly reassuring.  “I was very impressed with what I read.”

“Thanks,” Lister looked across at him warmly, “That means a lot to me.”  Rimmer reached over casually and squeezed his hand and Lister squeezed back.  “What are we doing tonight?” he asked, a little too innocently.

“Making a big fuss of you, of course, you clever old spoon.”

“What does that include?”

“Wait and see,” Rimmer smiled.

            Lister got his first taste of what was in store as the lift doors opened into the penthouse.  “Oooooh....” he breathed in deeply and turned to Rimmer, his eyes hooded with desire.  “Curry......”

“That’s right.  Your favourite.”  Rimmer drew him inside.  The sitting room had been rearranged.  The sofas had been moved out and instead the space had been dressed with waterfalls of silk, draped to create the effect of an enormous luxurious eastern tent.  Rugs, sheepskins, furs and cushions had been scattered liberally to make the place comfortable and a myriad of candles gave a soft flickering light.  A long table to one side was laden with shining silver dishes full of food.  Lister laughed out loud in surprise and delight, “Don’t tell me you made poor Mrs Jones slave away all day on that lot!” 

“Of course not,” Rimmer said dismissively, “Although she did make a cake which I’m under orders to give you tomorrow.  But Indian food is not her speciality, so I brought in someone a little more experienced.  Omair Sethi, to be exact.”

“The guy off the telly?  Seriously?”

“His restaurant here on Jupiter serves the only Michelin starred Indian cuisine outside of Earth.  Prepare to have your little scouse socks knocked off.”

            Lister giggled, looking around stupefied and enchanted.  “You know,” he said, “Some people would have just ordered a take-away and been done with it.  But not you.  Oh no, you had to hire in a celebrity chef to create a delectable banquet.  What are you _like_?!” 

“Only the best for my baby,” Rimmer said, “Do you like it?”  Lister went to him and hugged him tight, burying his face in his neck.  The scent of that aftershave was almost as enticing as the meal.  

“I love it,” he said.  It was true, and so very close to what he really wanted to say.

            They reclined together amongst the hillocks of soft cushions with their plates piled high.  “I love watching you eat,” Rimmer told him, amused.  “It’s like watching someone having a kind of bizarre oral sex.  You act like you want to roll in your food.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Lister purred, licking ghee from one finger, “I can tell you now that chillis burn if you get them in the wrong place.”

“So,” Rimmer remarked, scooping up a teaspoonful of red sauce, “If I were to take some of this, and...theoretically of course....spread it over somewhere intimate, would that create a kind of warming sensation?”  Lister raised an eyebrow, 

“Not that one.  Trust me.  You put that anywhere intimate and you’ll spend the rest of the night with your todger in a pot of yoghurt.”

“Ah,” Rimmer put the spoon back.  Lister chuckled and sipped his champagne.

            Rimmer turned to him, more serious now, “When do you have to hand in your scholarship application?”

“Gimme a break!  I only just got my thesis out the way, man!”

“I’m not nagging you, I’d just like to know.”

“End of the month.”

“And are you sure that’s really what you want?  The academy, I mean?”

“Of course.  I’ll struggle to get anywhere in my career without that qualification.”

“Then let me help you.”

“We’ve been over this.  I’m not taking the internship.  It’s too late now anyway, by the time we had everything sorted there’d be barely a month of term left.  It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I’m not talking about the internship,” Rimmer said brusquely, “Like you said, that ship has sailed.”

“Oh,” Lister tried not to feel miffed.  He hadn’t wanted to take the internship, but it had been nice knowing he had the option.  

“I’m offering you a job,” Rimmer told him frankly.

            Lister stared at him, “What?” he asked blankly.

“I want you to come and work at Rimmer Inc.  One of my team will be calling your friend Petrovitch tonight; in fact they probably already have.”

Lister carefully put down his plate.  “Why are you doing this?” he asked warily.

“I’m acting on the advice of the project manager in charge of ‘Wildfire’.  I gave him your thesis to read and he was blown away.  He said the work that you two had put together in the past four weeks was outstanding considering your age and resources and he strongly recommended that I get you both on the payroll before the space corps swallows you up.  Consider yourself headhunted.”

“Listen,” Lister shifted uncomfortably, “It’s Petrovitch you really want.  He’s the brains of the operation, trust me.”

“I won’t dispute that your friend is clearly an extraordinary physicist but I won’t let you sell yourself short.  Your contribution to that work was extremely impressive.  So impressive in fact, that I called the college to speak to your tutor.”

“You did _what?_ ”

“We had a fairly long discussion during which she described you as perhaps the most naturally gifted student to ever cross her path.  She said that you’re the man the other students go to whenever they’ve got a technical dilemma - apparently they call you ‘Spanners’, which I thought was charming.  She said you were hard working, dedicated, with an intuitive grasp of engineering that is incredibly rare.  She told me that your lack of education affects your confidence.  She also said your lack of confidence holds you back far more than your education, which I’m inclined to agree with.  Although, having said that, I’m glad you got someone to beta read that essay.  You might be a stellar engineer, darling, but your spelling is quite frankly horrendous.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Lister replied huffily, “We didn’t all go to poncy private schools on IO.”  _Darling_ , a little voice in his head peeped, _he called you darling.  He’s never called you that before..._

“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest where you went to school,” Rimmer continued, “But if it bothers _you_ then I can arrange for you to have some extra tuition.  You only have to say the word.”

“Look, forget about my spelling for a second,” Lister replied impatiently, “Let me get this straight.  You want me to bypass the academy and go straight into your company?”

“Not bypass,” Rimmer told him, “I want you to get your qualification.  But you’ll be studying part time rather than full time and you won’t need a scholarship.  My company will pay for your training.  Petrovitch too - if he accepts the offer.”

            Lister sank back against the cushions, his mind swirling.  “I don’t know what to say,” he said honestly.

“Say yes.”

“But...you’ll be my boss.  Won’t that be awkward?  And kind of weird?”

“I’m the CEO, Dave.  In the normal course of things you’d see me maybe once a year at the annual Christmas party.”

“And if things don’t work out between us, what then?  Will I be out of a job?”

“Absolutely not.  Your contract will be for an initial period of two years to allow you to complete your degree.  Normal terms and conditions will apply to that.  If after that period your contract is not renewed, for any reason, you will be a well qualified engineer with excellent experience and should be able to walk into any position up for grabs within the space corps.  You might have to sit their engineering exam as part of the job application if you want to apply for an officer post, but you’ll ace it easily if it comes to that.”

            “I don’t know,” Lister was wishing he hadn’t drunk so much champagne, he couldn’t think straight, “I really don’t know.”

“Your tutor said she thought the college would be willing to release you early.  She’d obviously have to clear it with the Deanery, but with your standard of work and predicted grades she thought it was likely that you could take the last six weeks of term as ‘work experience’ and still graduate with a high commendation.”

“Where would I stay?”

“If you accept the position then my HR team will find you an apartment here on Jupiter with a rent appropriate to your wages.  And of course you can stay here whenever you like.  The research suite where you’d be working is down on Floor 150.”

            Lister squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing the bridge of his nose anxiously.  “I need to think about this.  Give me some time to mull it over without a brainful of champagne, okay?”

“Okay.  That’s fair enough.  Forget about it tonight, just finish your dinner and then we’ll go have some fun.”

“You realise,” Lister picked up his plate again, “That this is going to be filling up my headspace all night now?  How am I supposed to think about anything else?” 

“Dave,” Rimmer smiled wickedly, “I can guarantee you that what I have planned tonight will wipe all other considerations from your mind.”

 


	35. Chapter 35

 

            Rimmer had carried the eastern theme over into the playroom.  The bed was dressed with beautiful Indian hangings and the walls were hung with illustrations from the Karma Sutra.  Moroccan lamps glowed like multi-coloured jewels around the room.  “I like this,” Lister teased as Rimmer undressed him, “It makes the place look so much classier.”

“It’s not supposed to look classy,” Rimmer mumbled, his mouth full of Lister, “It’s supposed to be intimidating.  That’s the _point_.”

“A room containing a metal cage and chains hanging from the ceiling is going to be intimidating no matter how many pretty lanterns you add,” Lister told him, closing his eyes and flexing to allow Rimmer’s lips to reach another part of him, “I’m just digging the ambience, that’s all.”

“Is it making you feel exotic and adventurous?”

“No.  But _you_ are.”

“Oh, good.  Because I feel like being a little adventurous with you tonight.”

“ _Every_ night with you is an adventure,” Lister told him honestly. 

            Rimmer took his hand and ushered him towards one of the more bizarre items of furniture the room contained.  It looked like a hospital bed, only the metal frame was a glossy black and the mattress was dark red leather.  At the head end there were red leather wrist straps, at the other end - what looked alarmingly like birthing stirrups.  “Feeling brave?” Rimmer whispered in his ear.

            A few minutes later, Lister was lying on his back wondering – not for the first or last time – how he had ended up in this situation.  His wrists were strapped down tightly either side of his head, his legs spread wide and his ankles strapped into the stirrups, his pelvis tilted up.  Rimmer was standing naked between his legs, massaging warm, scented oil across his body.  It felt wonderful, and the sight of Rimmer doing it to him was equally so; but Lister knew this game too well now to take this at face value.  If Rimmer asked him if he was feeling brave, it meant that bravery was definitely going to be required.

            As Rimmer’s hands moved over him, skilfully unwinding any tense or knotted muscles, he found himself relaxing almost against his will.  When those long slippery fingers finally began to work on his cock, he was almost in a blissful dream.  “I’m just going to fetch some things from the cabinet,” Rimmer murmured to him, “Don’t you go anywhere.”

“Yes, sir,” Lister replied, his eyes still dreamily closed.  When Rimmer returned, he resumed massaging Lister’s cock, but lightly this time.  

“Open your eyes, baby,” he ordered softly.  Lister did so, and saw Rimmer holding what looked like a miniature wrist cuff, studded with poppers.  “Do you know what this is?”  Lister shook his head.  “It’s a cock ring,” Rimmer told him, “I’m going to put it on you and it will keep you hard while we’re playing.  But it will be very tight and you won’t be able to come until I take it off.  Is that clear?”

“Is it going to hurt?” Lister whispered.  Rimmer bent over and kissed his forehead,

“That depends how long I leave it on...” he said ambiguously.   He bent between Lister’s legs and gently kissed his way up the shaft of his penis, making it dance and bob eagerly, then swiftly fastened the small leather strap around the base, pulling it tight and snapping it into place.  Lister gasped sharply at the sudden intense pressure, squirming at the sensation.  His cock immediately felt harder...and much more sensitive.

            “How does that feel, baby?” Rimmer asked.

“I don’t know,” Lister replied breathlessly, “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

“There’s more to come,” Rimmer leaned over and kissed him, firm and deep.  His tongue, with its constant subtle vibration, teased Lister’s mouth and his fingers – still coated with oil – caressed and pinched his nipples, bringing them to hard points.  He bit down on Lister’s lower lip before drawing back.  “Still feeling brave?”

“I don’t know about brave,” Lister panted, “But horny.  Very, very horny.”

“That’s good enough,” Rimmer mused, smiling.  He bent down to pick up something else and then leaned over Lister again.  Lister was expecting a kiss, but instead Rimmer attached tight silver clips to first one nipple, then the other.  “Ooh!” Lister squeaked.  

“Too tight?” Rimmer asked innocently.  Lister pondered for a second.  It didn’t really hurt – it felt like someone was biting him gently – but the feeling was unfamiliar and strange; and seemed in some anatomy-defying way to link directly to the tight ring of pressure encircling his cock.  

“I’m okay,” he managed to say, “It’s fine.”

“Good boy,” Rimmer trailed a finger down his chest and stomach, “You always surpass my expectations of you.”  The finger reached his cock and travelled upwards.  “I wonder,” he murmured, lowering his head ever lower to join it, “Just how long you can keep it up...?”  His mouth sank down onto Lister’s cock, taking him in deep and making him groan.

            Lister didn’t know how long it went on, both time and the depths of Rimmer’s throat seemed to stretch to infinity.  Every time he thought he was there, that he couldn’t possibly contain it any longer, the threat of impending orgasm would ebb and he’d be left trembling and aching – only for Rimmer to steadily bring him back to the edge again.

            When Rimmer eventually let Lister’s cock slide from his mouth, still immensely stiff and flushed almost purple, he thought it might be over.  But no such luck.  Rimmer kissed him, “I’m so proud of you, Dave.  You consistently amaze me, you know that?  I’ve had subs with far more experience who’d be begging for release by now.”

“If you want me to beg, I’ll do it,” Lister told him through gritted teeth.  Rimmer laughed and reached down to gently squeeze his swollen balls, making him gasp hoarsely.  

“That’s what I find so delicious about you,” he told him tenderly, “You would do it if I asked, but it wouldn’t be sincere.”

“Oh, believe me, it would,” Lister replied unsteadily.

“I’m not so sure,” Rimmer said, “I don’t think that would ever be your chosen tactic.”  He bent down and licked the head of Lister’s cock again and he whined desperately in response.  “I think,” Rimmer said thoughtfully, rubbing more oil onto his own cock, “Maybe that should be my objective.  I might never make you a masochist, Dave.  I might never even make you a proper submissive.  But before our three months together are up, I want to make you beg.  And to mean it.”

           He slid deep into Lister’s ass with one smooth thrust.  Lister pulled vainly at his restraints, arching his back with a cry.  He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.  His heart was racing and he understood now why Rimmer had given him the massage before they started – every muscle in his body was tight as a bow string and his skin was glossy with sweat.  Every thrust made his prostate throb and his bound cock pulse with concentrated need.  This wasn’t like the games of orgasm denial Rimmer had played with him in the past – those had been more about the flirting, the foreplay, and ultimately had required little more than patience on his part.  This was a full-on physical endurance test.

            Rimmer swivelled his hips and pushed deeper into him, leaning over to lightly kiss his lips.  Lister almost sobbed as that beautiful body pressed against his, sending his tormented cock into overdrive.  He needed to come so badly it hurt.  If this went on any longer his man-parts were going to burst, he was sure.  “I can’t do it,” he choked out, “I can’t take any more.  It’s gonna kill me...”

“Oh but baby, you’re doing so well,” Rimmer teased him, quickening his pace.

“I’m not kidding,” Lister panted, “I’m a whisker away from full-on cardiac arrest here!  I’m done!”

“Okay,” Rimmer whipped the clips off Lister’s nipples and then bent down to suck them hard.  Lister jerked in his bonds, crying out at the sensation as his swollen nipples throbbed against the pressure of Rimmer’s tongue.  “Oh _god!_ ” he managed to squeal out, barely able to form the words.  Rimmer’s thrusts became harder and deeper as he began to reach his own orgasm, spurred on by Lister’s cry.  

“You ready for this, baby?” he growled.  Lister couldn’t even reply.  All he could focus on was that if Rimmer came inside him now, he was either going to die on the spot, or his cock was actually going to explode.  At the same moment he felt the first burning shot of Rimmer’s ejaculation inside him, Rimmer sharply snapped open the popper and pulled the cuff loose.  Lister screamed from the depths of his soul as the orgasm coursed through him like an electric shock.  His saw his own ejaculation fountain into the air as the pressure was finally released and his body went into spasm as he instinctively tried to move, to squeeze his legs together, anything to contain the sensation, but the straps held him tightly in place and it spread through every limb.  His vision went red, then black as he passed out.

            When he opened his eyes again, probably no more than a minute later, his feet had been released and were resting on the bed.  Rimmer was next to him, unfastening his wrists.  When he saw Lister’s eyes were open, he smiled and bent over to kiss the tip of his nose.  “That was very impressive,” he told him playfully, gently placing his hands on his stomach once they were free, “I’ve seen military guns with less range than that.”  Lister risked a glance downward to check on his little soldier.  Very red, and still tingling slightly but fast asleep and otherwise unharmed.  That was a relief.  He’d half expected to find it on the other side of the playroom.  He wanted to say something, but what?  Words seemed like an entirely abstract concept right now.  His body was still reeling and his brain couldn’t catch-up.  He couldn’t have put it into words if he tried.  Rimmer kissed him softly on the lips, “Just lie there for a second.  Don’t try to get up yet.”  He crossed the room to the cabinet and Lister watched as he pulled some cleaning wipes from a drawer and started to sterilise the equipment they’d been using.  Cleaning.  Yes.  That would be a good place to start.

            “I need a shower,” he said weakly.

“Yep,” Rimmer agreed cheerfully, “Me too.  But rest for a moment first.”

“Hey, I’m okay,”   Lister struggled to a sitting position and his pelvic muscles twanged in an alarming fashion.  

“No, you’re not.  Lie down,” Rimmer told him briskly.  Lister placed his feet on the floor experimentally.  Everything seemed to be in working order.  He pushed himself off the bed and immediately slid to the ground in a boneless heap, his head spinning.  He heard Rimmer sigh impatiently, “What did I tell you?”  He marched over and picked Lister up off the floor, sitting him back on the edge of the bed.  “I _told_ you not to get up.  Right now your brain still can’t decide where it should be sending your blood supply.  And _you_ are clearly still thinking with your cock.  _Sit_.”

“Oh God,” Lister looked at the sweat and come-stained leather, “We made such a mess...”

“Well, that’s what I pay Mrs Jones for.”

“Ugh,” Lister looked at him in horror, “You have got to be yanking my chain, man.”

“I’ll clean up the worst of it.  I’ll just get her to come in here tomorrow to polish up.”  Lister cradled his head in his hands.  He felt like he’d just come off a rollercoaster and his ears were ringing.  The last thing he needed right now was an image of smiley Mrs Jones in here with her floral apron, whistling as she scrubbed his come out of the leather.  “Oh, oh , oh, that’s so wrong,” he moaned.  He felt Rimmer’s hands on his shoulders, steadying him.  “You’re swaying,” he said concerned, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, I think I just ejaculated out half of my vital organs through my cock and my eardrums have possibly burst.  But other than that, I’m just peachy.”

“Hmm, sarcasm,” Rimmer remarked, “You can’t be too bad.  I think you just need some sleep.”

“Sleep...” Lister confirmed.  Almost as if he’d been waiting for the order, the word triggered something in his brain and he yawned hugely.

            The rest of the night was a blur.  He felt Rimmer pick him up at some point.  There was a vague memory of cool white enamel and the sound of gentle splashing.  There was the enveloping warmth of a bath full of warm water and a soft wash-cloth on his skin.  Finally there was the marshmallow softness of a bed and a duvet.

            Rimmer had been true to his word.  All thoughts of the job offer he’d sprung on him earlier in the evening had been completely wiped from Lister’s brain.

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

            Lister stayed in his room for longer than usual the next morning.  Normally he was eager to get up and find Rimmer, but on this occasion he lounged in bed for a while; partly because he was physically drained from the night before, but also because he needed to think.  On waking he’d initially been preoccupied with cataloguing his long list of aching body parts, and recalling the chain of events which had led to them aching.  He checked cautiously on how his penis was bearing up and found it to be somewhat tender but otherwise unscathed, but almost every muscle through his back, shoulders, arms, stomach, abdomen and thighs was complaining.  He’d never imagined it was possible to strain yourself while strapped to a bed, but thanks to Arnold Rimmer he had managed it.  It had taken some time for him to think back far enough to remember the other major event of the night.

            He curled up on his side, staring out of his window at the clear bright morning over Jupiter.  On the face of it, this seemed like such an amazing offer.  He knew that anyone he spoke to would tell him he was a fool for even needing to think it over.  Rimmer was offering him an incredible opportunity that any sane person should automatically jump at.  Everything he’d spent the last few years working towards and more were all being offered to him on a silver platter.  All the issues that had kept him awake at night – his academic ability, his financial position, his future prospects – had been solved in an instant; his place at the academy secure, his tuition fees paid for, his income assured.  

            But Lister wasn’t any sane person.  He was Arnold Rimmer’s submissive.  And that put a different spin on _everything_.  Had he really earned this?  Was Rimmer really acting on professional advice in wanting to hire him, or was this just another extravagant gift?  Was he handing Lister a career the same way he’d handed him that Ducati?  Was he even doing it entirely for Lister’s benefit?  When they’d talked about this just a few weeks ago, Rimmer had been openly uneasy about the possibility of Lister having to join the JMC if his scholarship fell through and what that would mean for them – or rather, Lister corrected himself bitterly, their _arrangement_.  Maybe he hadn’t been convinced that Lister was capable of securing the place on his own and had decided to step in and eliminate the risk.  If he took this job, how could he ever be certain that he truly deserved it?

            Lister bit his lip anxiously.  The other question, and maybe the _big_ question, hung over him.  Even if Rimmer hadn’t done this because he wanted to indulge him, or because he felt sorry for him and didn’t believe he could do it alone...was there another motive behind it?  Was all of this just another way of controlling him?  One of the reasons he’d been so against taking the internship was because he felt it gave Rimmer too much power over him – and he’d said so.  This was something even bigger.  Not only would he be dependent on Rimmer for his livelihood, which was a scary thought in itself, but he would owe him a hell of a lot.  The internship would have been a helping hand, a leg-up on the career ladder, but actually paving his way into the academy and paying his tuition fees – that was a whole different ball game.

            A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.  “Dave?  Are you awake?”

“Just barely,” he replied, struggling to sit upright as Rimmer entered carrying a tray.

“Are you okay?” Rimmer sat down on the edge of the bed, “You’re normally up before now.”

“I’ve been better.  I think you broke me last night.”  Lister took the proffered breakfast tray and set it down astride his lap.  Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and not a grapefruit in sight.  He silently thanked the stars for Mrs Jones and took a sip of his freshly-squeezed orange juice.  “Where does it hurt?” Rimmer asked attentively.  

“Everywhere,” he replied, “I feel like someone beat me up and then used my tackle to try and make balloon animals.”  He was exaggerating slightly, but decided that a bit of sympathy this morning would not be entirely undeserved.  “Do you want to see a doctor?” Rimmer asked earnestly.

“No,” Lister relented, “It’s okay.  I just need to rest.  And so does he,” he glanced downward meaningfully.  Rimmer smiled ruefully, 

“Understood.  Was it worth it?”

Lister hesitated before answering.  Like so many things he’d experienced with this man, last night had been like nothing else he’d ever done before.  Comparing what they’d done with ‘normal’ sex was like comparing a bichon frise to a wolf.  They were related in some distant way but absolutely nothing alike.

            “It’s hard to say,” he replied, “Apart from the bits where I thought I was dying it was mind-blowing.”

“Was it too much?”

“My body certainly seems to think so this morning,” He looked at Rimmer uncertainly, “Is it dangerous, what we did?  I mean, putting your body through that?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to you I thought would be unacceptably dangerous,” Rimmer told him and Lister warily noted the use of the word ‘unacceptably’ in that sentence.  “It’s not something I would do with anyone over a certain age, or anyone who I knew had certain medical conditions.  But you’re young and healthy and have already proven yourself to be remarkably resilient in more ways than one.  I’m fairly confident that if I took your blood pressure now it would probably be right back to normal.  But of course,” he added conscientiously, “If you didn’t enjoy it then we don’t have to do it again.”  Lister pondered this for a moment, then smiled sheepishly,

“Maybe just don’t leave it quite so long next time, huh?”

            Rimmer took his hand and kissed it, “Deal.  We’ll hang out in the spa today.  Some massage and hydrotherapy will get you back on your feet again.”

“My feet are just about the only part of me that don’t need any help,” Lister joked weakly.  Rimmer held onto his hand, his thumb lightly circling Lister’s palm.  

“Have you thought any more about the job?”

“Yeah,” Lister admitted, “But I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“That’s fine.  No rush.”

“Please don’t think I’m not grateful.  If things were different I’d be leaping at this, you know that.”

“What is it that bothers you?” Rimmer asked him, “The idea that I’m pulling strings on your behalf or the idea that you’ll be screwing your boss?”  He raised an eyebrow knowingly.  Lister turned his gaze to the window, embarrassed and slightly annoyed that Rimmer had predicted his reaction so well.  “Maybe I just don’t think you can pay me what I’m worth,” he countered cheekily.

“I can’t,” Rimmer told him, “Because you are worth more to me than I think you know.”

            Lister wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  “When do I need to make a decision?” he asked quietly, changing the subject.

“There’s no deadline,” Rimmer told him, “We’re not on a schedule with this.  And besides, I think you’ll probably make a decision one way or the other quickly enough. I know what you’re like once you make up your mind about something.”

“You and me both, huh?” Lister countered, the corner of his mouth tilting up.  Rimmer mirrored him, 

“Yes.  I suppose so.”

            They spent the rest of the weekend chilling out at the hub.  Lister suffered through a couple of massages which hurt like hell, but would apparently help his muscles recover.  They swam in the pool, lounged side by side in the sauna and lazed in the Jacuzzi.  They watched a couple of movies in the private cinema room in the penthouse – after a lengthy debate they chose one each – and cuddled in the darkness.  When Mrs Jones found out Lister was not feeling 100%, she gave Rimmer a very dark look, which he actually seemed chastened by.  She spent the rest of the weekend hovering attentively, bringing them drinks and snacks and pieces of the cake she’d made as a reward for Lister handing his project in.  Rimmer didn’t raise the subject of the job offer again but that didn’t stop Lister thinking about it.

            When he arrived back at his dorm on Sunday night he was unsurprised to find Petrovitch already there waiting for him.  “You got the call?” he asked him straight away, no pre-amble required.  

“I got it,” Petrovitch confirmed, grinning widely.

“I’m guessing from the big goofy smile that you accepted, right?” Lister headed to the kitchen, flicking the kettle on.  

“Of course!” Petrovitch followed him, “I was delighted to accept!  I owe you big debt of gratitude!”

“You don’t owe me anything, man,” Lister shook his head, “Believe me, I had no hand in this at all.”

“But you asked me to be your essay partner.  And without your connections, nobody at Rimmer Inc would have ever seen the work we did.  So I thank you anyway.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I suppose,” Lister mixed up a couple of mugs of instant coffee.  “Where’s Petersen?”

“Gone out to get us some beers.”

“Have you told him?”

“Of course.”

“What did he say?”

“He was surprised, I think.  Why do you ask?”

“He’s not too keen on Rimmer, that’s all.”

“Well,” Petrovitch replied diplomatically, taking his coffee and sipping it, “I cannot claim to know the man very well.”

“But?” Lister raised an eyebrow with a weary smile.

“Don’t be like that.  I have no wish to speak ill of someone you care about, or someone who has just made me very generous offer and is about to become my boss.  _But_...” he shrugged, “I can understand Petersen’s misgivings.”

“It’s okay,” Lister told him, “I have a few misgivings of my own.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure if I should take the job, that’s all.”

“David!” Petrovitch was clearly genuinely shocked, “You cannot be serious!  You would be insane to pass up this opportunity!”

“I know, I know.  But with everything that’s going on, I just don’t know if I could handle working for him too.  He’s so overbearing, guy.  I’m not sure it’s healthy for him to be in every part of my life this way.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Kind of.  He said we’d have very little interaction at work, so it wouldn’t really matter.  And he’s always promised not to interfere with my studies or my career – although this whole thing kind of blows that out of the water.”    

“Well,” Petrovitch mused, “I suppose I understand why you might feel uncomfortable.  But all the same, I think this is too big for you to pass up.  I suppose it all boils down to how much you trust him.”

            Lister considered this.  He trusted Rimmer implicitly in some respects.  Was it ridiculous that he was willing to let the man take complete control of him physically but balked at the possibility of giving him any control professionally?  If he could hold out his wrists for chains and have faith that Rimmer wouldn’t abuse that power, couldn’t he have faith in this?

            Petersen staggered through the door a few minutes later with three carrier bags full of beer and spirits.  “Woah!” Lister looked at the haul wide-eyed, “I didn’t know we were throwing a party!  I haven’t even decided if I’m taking the job yet!”

“Who said anything about a party?” Petersen dropped the bags and immediately tore open a six-pack.  

“Ah,” Lister shared a look with Petrovitch, who shrugged good-naturedly.  

“I suppose we should help him drink it.  He’ll only end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning again if we don’t.”

“Olaf,” Lister said, “Have you ever wondered if maybe you drink too much?”

“Too much for what?” Petersen asked blankly.

“Never mind.”

 

            

 


	37. Chapter 37

            Lister spent the next two days debating with himself.  Every time he thought he’d made up his mind one way or the other, something would shake his certainty and he’d find himself back to square one again.  The problem was that no-one could give him real advice because nobody knew the whole story.  The NDA he’d signed meant that there was nobody he could turn to for help with this dilemma – this was something he had to figure out all alone.

            He had a meeting with his tutor and his head of department, who were naturally baffled as to why he had any reservations about taking the post.  Both assured him that the work he and Petrovitch had done was impressive enough to warrant the offer of employment and that neither of them were surprised by it.  This made Lister feel better for a whole afternoon – until he started to wonder if Rimmer had instructed them to say that if he started asking questions.

            With Petrovitch having already accepted his place at Rimmer Inc, news had quickly spread around the campus that he would be leaving soon and Lister was aware that his hesitation in following suit was doing nothing to quell the rumour mill that had been churning for weeks now.  He remembered how laid-back Rimmer had been about the joggers who had witnessed him picking Lister up in the jet last weekend.  How naively optimistic he’d been in hoping Rimmer might be thinking about changing the boundaries of their agreement.  When he’d referred casually to their ‘cover story’, he hadn’t been talking about the spiel he’d given all those people at that party their first weekend together at all.  That excuse had been wearing thin and they both knew it.  Arnold J Rimmer wouldn’t fly all the way to Saturn to pick up an intern in his private jet.  But he might do it to headhunt a promising young engineer he wanted for his company.  That was a very acceptable and believable cover story.  Which, right now, Lister was massively undermining with his reluctance to sign on the dotted line.  Realistically, there was only one reason why someone in his position would hesitate to take this job – a big fat personal one.  If anyone who’d heard the rumours around here had doubted there could be anything at all going on between the scrappy scouser and the cool elegant billionaire, they’d certainly be reconsidering the possibility now.

            Given the conversation they’d had the previous week, he’d expected Petersen to support his reluctance to sink any deeper into Rimmer’s clutches but – as he often did – the Dane surprised him.  “Of course you should take the smegging job!” Petersen had bellowed, waving a beer can with fierce disregard for anyone in the close vicinity who might object to getting splashed with alcohol or hit in the face.  “At least that way when that _røvhul_ breaks your heart you’ll have a big fat paycheck every month to help ease the pain.  You might as well get something out of it.”

            What finally made up his mind for him was a dream.  The same one he’d had that night at Rimmer Central after they’d swapped stories about their families.  The dream about the day his adoptive mother died.  Only this time it was different details that stuck with him when he opened his wet eyes.  He thought of that cheap toy robot, the pieces strewn across his small bedroom as his eleven year old self dismantled it bit by bit, consumed with a burning curiosity to see what made it work...and whether he could make it _better_.  He thought of all the love in his gran’s big flabby arms as she held him tight and squeezed.  He thought of what he owed to that little boy and to that tired old woman.  He rolled over and scooped his phone off the nightstand.  He didn’t bother to look at the time before he made the call.  Rimmer would be awake.  He always was.

            “Are you okay?” Rimmer asked immediately on answering.  No hello, no niceties.  

“Yeah,” Lister said, his voice still sleep-rough.

“You sound strange.  Are you drunk?”

“No.  I’m in bed.  I just woke up.”

“So why are you calling me?”

“Because I have an answer.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I was a kid,” Lister told him, feeling his way through what he needed to say like a blind man feeling his way down a winding passage, “I had a toy robot.”

“Okaaay...” Rimmer replied, clearly wondering if Lister was still asleep.

“I took it apart,” he said, “And put it back together again.  I wanted to know how it worked.  And I wanted to see if I could do it.”

“And could you?” Rimmer asked gently.

“Yeah,” Lister said, “And you know what?  It wasn’t even that hard.  It was like I just knew where all the pieces had to go.  It made sense.  There’s not many things in my life that have made sense, but that robot did.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Dave?”

            Lister screwed his eyes shut, clutching his pillow in a death-grip.  “I could get that scholarship.  I could do this on my own.  I don’t like the idea of letting someone just...swoop in and fix all this for me when I’ve worked so hard to make my own way.”

“I see,” Rimmer said after a beat.

“But,” Lister added after a beat of his own, “Despite all that, I know the little boy who loved that robot would have done anything to have a chance like this; to work on something this complex, this huge, this important.  I know that my gran would have been so proud to think of me doing groundbreaking engineering and not servicing vending machines.  And I know that I deserve this.  I know I’m good enough.  Even if I am shagging the boss.”

“Mister Lister, are you accepting my offer of employment?”

“Mister Rimmer,” Lister replied, “It would be a pleasure to work for your company.  I accept the offer.”

“I’m so pleased,” Rimmer said, and sounded like he meant it, “You won’t regret this, I promise you.”

“When do I start?”

“I’ll talk to HR, see if we can get your contract ready for signing at the weekend.  Obviously we need to find you an apartment, but you can stay here until it’s all organised if you want to start sooner.  Your decision.”

“Okay.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Go back to sleep now.”

“Yes boss,” Lister hung up, rolled over and promptly fell fast asleep – this time without dreams

When he broke the news to Petrovitch the next day, the Russian reacted with his usual overwhelming exuberance.  “Wonderful news!” he proclaimed, throwing his arms around Lister and squeezing him in a bear hug.  “We will be colleagues and perhaps neighbours too.  And you can show me all the places that Rimmer takes you on Jupiter – we will live the high life, yes?”

“Erm...We don’t actually get out that much,” Lister confessed.  The idea of showing Petrovitch the one place where he and Rimmer spent most of their time was clearly out of the question.

“Ah, I understand,” Petrovitch nudged him and winked, “In that case we will find new places to go together.  Maybe sometimes Petersen can visit us and we will all hang out like old times.”

“That would be nice,” Lister smiled.  It was so like Petrovitch to think of the comrade they were leaving behind.  He suddenly felt very grateful that this loud, lanky, utterly brilliant person was coming with him to Jupiter.  Although he was likely to be spending a lot more time with Rimmer, having a friend close by would definitely be reassuring.

            In a touching gesture, Lister’s workshop companions organised celebratory drinks that Friday at Joe’s Bar, where he worked.  He had finally handed his notice in and his colleagues were joining them for a combined leaving-do.  Lister sent Rimmer a message telling him of his plans and asking if he would send the car later than usual and pick him up at the bar.  Rimmer sent back a grudging response – _I suppose you’ve earned it.  Not too late though, we have business to discuss when you get here.  Don’t get drunk.  The car will pick you up at 10.30._   Lister rolled his eyes but texted back graciously,

-         _Thank you, sir (or should I call you boss now?).  I appreciate your flexibility._

-         _I’m not your boss yet.  Not until you sign on the dotted line.  After that, we’ll see..._

After one too many drinks and a lot of hugs and handshakes, Lister stepped outside just before 10.30pm.  A beautiful dark blue car was parked just up the street.  It was too dark to tell for certain, but it might have been a Bentley.  Lister took a few steps towards it and was surprised when it peeled away from the kerb and slid away into the night.  He blushed, pleased that no-one had seen that and mortified by his own arrogance.  Had he really become such a spoilt brat that he automatically assumed now that any fancy car passing must have been sent for him?  He leaned back against the wall, made a mental note to watch himself for any other tell-tale signs of diva-like behaviour and reminded himself sternly that this privileged lifestyle was not going to last forever.  At 10.30 precisely, the more familiar Jag rounded the corner and he hopped in for the journey to the shuttleport, making a point of thanking the driver politely when he dropped him off.

            The limo was waiting for him when he stepped off the shuttle at Jupiter and so was Rimmer.  As Taylor drove them back to the hub, he and Rimmer canoodled on the back seat.  “Hmmm...” Rimmer bit his lower lip gently, “You’ve been drinking.  You taste of cocktails.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t drink,” Lister reminded him, “You said I couldn’t get _drunk_.”

“Say red lorry, yellow lorry.”

“Relax.  I’m not pished.”

“Pished?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow.

“I’m teasing you.  Red lorry, yellow lorry.  Red lorry, yellow lorry.”

“That’s better.”

“You know your nostrils flare up in the cutest way when you’re cross with me?”

“That alcohol has made you very cocky.  I can see I’m going to have to be strict with you tonight.”

“I’m just savouring my last minutes of freedom before you take control of yet another area of my life for the next two years.  Can’t be cheeky to the boss, can I?”

“You’re not _supposed_ to be cheeky to your master either.”

“Hey, the worst he can do is tie me up and spank me.  If I get on the wrong side of my new boss, who knows what the repercussions will be?”

“He might tie you up and spank you too.  Although if you really think that’s the worst I can do, then I haven’t taught you anything.”

            When they got back to the apartment, Lister noted with some disappointment that it had all been returned to its former state - he’d liked the Indian theme.  Rimmer sat him down on the sofa.  On the coffee table in front of them was a folder emblazoned with the Rimmer logo and an ice-bucket holding a bottle of champagne.  “Another contract to sign,” Lister said wistfully, “Doesn’t this bring back memories?”

“You seem less nervous this time,” Rimmer remarked, smiling.

“I know.  Stupid, right?  I mean, this is a far bigger deal than us laying down the ground rules for our sex life.  And it’s a longer contract than three months.  This is going to have a massive impact on my life, isn’t it?”  Lister looked at the folder and tried to make himself feel the importance of what he was about to do.

“Obviously when there’s no threat of fisting involved, you’re much more relaxed about what you sign,” Rimmer teased.

“I would _hope_ there’s no threat of fisting in the workplace,” Lister replied archly, “But in any company you own, god only knows.”

“If it puts your mind at ease I can add a codicil to our other contract to stipulate there’s to be no engagement in BDSM or other sexual activity in the workplace,” Rimmer suggested.  

“Maybe that would be a good idea.  I don’t want to have to worry about wearing my good underwear into the office every day in case I get called in to see the boss.”

“You mean what you’ve been wearing is your good underwear?” Rimmer turned up his nose, “I really need to take you shopping, miladdio.”

“What’s wrong with me underwear?  It’s clean!”

“It would be more accurate to say what _remains_ of it is clean.  I’ve seen sieves with fewer holes.”

“Snob,” Lister sniffed and picked up the folder.

            He pulled out the contract and started to skim through curiously.  Rimmer hadn’t discussed any particulars with him other than what he’d be working on and where he’d be based, so the terms of his contract were still largely a mystery.  When he reached the section outlining the details of his salary, his eyes widened.  “Is that right?” he asked, pointing.

“Yes.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!  That’s loco, man!”

“That’s what you’re worth to the company.”

“But I’ve got no experience!  I don’t even have a degree yet!”

“Of course, we’ll re-address your pay grade once that situation changes.”  Lister stared at the figure in disbelief – this was just a starting salary?  Rimmer smiled at him condescendingly, “If it makes you feel any better,” he said sweetly, “It’s less than I’m paying your friend Petrovitch.”

“Oh,” Lister relaxed slightly before it occurred to him to be offended, “And why’s that?”

“Because he’s got better qualifications than you right now.  There’s more stars on that kid’s CV than there are in the sky over this city.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Lister relented, smiling weakly.

            Rimmer leaned over and slid a glossy brochure out of the folder, “Speaking of your friend, I assumed you’d want an apartment in the same building.  We can go and pick one tomorrow if you like.”  Lister took it from him and leafed through, gazing at the pictures.  These apartments were bigger than any of the houses he’d ever lived in.  Nothing on the scale of the Rimmer Penthouse, of course, and nowhere near as luxurious - but clean and modern and new.  This was a building for well-to-do young professionals, with spacious sitting-rooms and sleek separate dining rooms for throwing parties.  This didn’t seem real.  He’d never imagined himself in a place like this.  He’d always assumed that he’d share some ‘studenty’ place with friends until he made it into the space corps and got his regulation accommodation with whatever job he’d landed.  Maybe, when he’d retired, he would find a little farm somewhere with a scrappy old house that he could fix-up.  This fancy building with its hardwood floors and polished marble work-surfaces had never figured anywhere in his life plan or his expectations.

            “Of course,” Rimmer was still talking, “The company will pay your first month’s rent up front so you can get moved in and settled before your first paycheck comes in.  And we’ll arrange for all your stuff to be relocated, we have a firm we usually use to deal with these matters.  You just have to pack a bag with your overnight stuff and any items you might want on arrival – they’ll pack up the rest of your belongings for you and ship them.”

“I don’t have much,” Lister ventured, “It’s only a room and it came furnished.  Most of the stuff in the dorm - the TV and all that – all belong to Petersen.”

“Marvellous.  Well, it won’t take long then.  And your new flat will be furnished so you won’t have to worry about that.  I’ll get one of my PA’s to sort you out with everything else you might need – crockery, bedding, anything like that.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“If you’d rather pick your own stuff, that’s fine.  Charge it to the company credit card.”

“With the amount you’re paying me I’m sure I can afford to buy some dinner plates,” Lister said, exasperated.  

“Use it to buy new underwear,” Rimmer told him, “The company will pay for any and all expenses incurred in your relocation.” 

            They went through the rest of the contract together, with Rimmer pointing out various clauses about annual leave, study leave, corporate confidentiality, etc.  The revelations about his wages and his accommodation had shocked Lister back into something almost akin to sobriety and he took it all in carefully.  When he’d read everything through, initialled where he needed to initial, signed where he needed to sign on three different copies, he slumped back exhausted while Rimmer popped open the champagne.  “Congratulations, Darling,” Rimmer handed him a foaming glass and clinked his against it jovially, “Welcome to the team.”

“Cheers,” Lister smiled at his enthusiasm, “Here’s to breaking that reality barrier.”

“Well said.”  They sipped at their drinks.

“So,” Lister asked cheekily, “When do I get paid?”


	38. Chapter 38

            “You know,” Lister said two glasses later when he was well on his way back to being tipsy again, “I never used to like champagne.  But I have to admit, since I met you it’s started to grow on me.  This stuff is actually pretty good.”

“My, my,” Rimmer’s arm, which had been draped snugly over his shoulders, squeezed him close as he kissed his cheek, “Is the toerag from Toxteth developing expensive taste?”

“Me?  You’ve gotta be kidding,” Lister blushed, embarrassed; thinking of the incident with the dark blue car earlier, “Where I come from, Heinz ketchup is considered posh.  We had the supermarket own brand stuff in our house, let me tell you.”

“You poor deprived child,” Rimmer mocked gently.

“I’m just saying this is nice, that’s all.”

“I should hope so,” Rimmer replied, “It costs three hundred dollarpounds a bottle.”  Lister’s eyes widened as he swallowed, almost choking on a bubble, 

“Get outta town!”

“I have quite an extensive wine collection.  I thought tonight merited something special.”

“Of course,” Lister replied dryly, “I should have guessed.”  He finished off his glass with a renewed appreciation for the contents, but the nagging feeling of discomfort remained.  He couldn’t let all this glamour and luxury change him – he couldn’t afford it either emotionally or financially.

 

            The next day he found himself standing in the middle of one of the executive apartments they’d discussed the night before.  Rimmer was pacing around examining everything and quizzing the letting agent, Lister simply wandered in something of a daydream.  They’d looked at two other available spaces in the building already and there was very little to choose between any of them.  One had a slightly bigger kitchen, one had a slightly bigger spare room, this one was on a higher floor and had a better view.  Lister didn’t give two figs about any of those things, but Rimmer was determined that he get the absolute best.  “Which one do you like?” he asked him for the fifth time.  Lister sighed and gave him the same answer he had the last four times he’d asked, 

“I don’t care.  They’re all nice.”

“Well, pick one.”

“Fine.  This one.”

“Don’t just say that.  _Think_ about it.”

“What’s there to think about?  They’re all basically the same.”

“You don’t think the larger kitchen would be better?”

“C’mon, man, I hardly ever cook.  Most nights I’m here I’ll be eating microwave curry in front of the TV.”

            Despite all the questions Rimmer threw at him, the fact was Lister was finding it very hard to care, because to him this place just didn’t feel like home.  It was too unlike anything he associated with the word.  Too new, too clean and too empty.  Maybe he’d feel differently when he’d moved some of his stuff in and had some familiar things to centre him, but right now he just couldn’t picture himself living here.

            He wandered to the window and looked out.  Nothing like the vista from the top of Rimmer Central, of course, but good enough.  This apartment was on a different side of the building and had a better view than the others - in fact, from here he could see the tower rising up out of the city like some giant leviathan, a great beast to be worshipped.  He let his gaze travel up to the top floors where the sun was glinting off the windows of the penthouse.  Rimmer appeared by his side and Lister turned to him with a playful smile, “I can see your house from up here.”

“So you can.  I suppose that means I’ll be able to see you too.”

“You’d need to invest in a telescope.”

“What makes you think I don’t already have one?”

“Well,” Lister mused, “Why not?  You’ve got everything else.”

            Lister gazed across at the shining windows thoughtfully.  The hub was only a ten-minute drive from here, which would be nice and convenient for both work and play, but the idea of being able to see Rimmer’s home from here was oddly comforting.  He liked the idea of looking out in the evenings and searching for the tell-tale lights in the dark – and knowing right away if Rimmer was there or not.  It would be a small but soothing connection he could reach for on the nights when they were apart.  He looked up at Rimmer, his mind made up.  “I want this one,” he said quietly.  Rimmer smiled and Lister thought he saw a hint of understanding in that smile; the part of him that would not give up hope wondered if the idea of searching for a light in the dark had occurred to Rimmer too.  “Your wish is my command,” he replied softly.  He turned to the agent who was hovering nervously behind them, “When can he move in?”

 

            That evening they sat side by side at the counter in the middle of the kitchen discussing the logistics of Lister’s move while Mrs Jones bustled around them making dinner and suggestions.  Lister was starting to draw up a list of things in his dorm that the movers would need to collect, Rimmer was making a list of things that he would need for the new apartment.  Mrs Jones interjected every now and then to remind them that while he would of course need a TV and a sound system and a high-speed wireless network, he probably shouldn’t forget about little things like a vacuum cleaner and a clothes drier.

            “Don’t forget to list your bike as well,” Rimmer reminded him, leaning over and tapping the list meaningfully, “That’ll probably need to be shipped separately.”

“You mean _bikes_ ,” Lister replied pointedly.  Rimmer narrowed his eyes,

“I thought you’d got rid of that thing.”  

“No way, man! I’m not getting rid of it!  I built _‘that thing’_ with my own bare hands!” 

“I told you I didn’t want you riding it anymore.”

“I don’t ride it anymore,” Lister replied haughtily, “But it’s got sentimental value.  And so long as I don’t ride it, I’m not breaking the rules, am I? You can’t stop me _keeping_ it.”  Over by the stove, Mrs Jones chuckled softly.  Rimmer glared at her,

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing at all, Mr Rimmer,” she replied innocently, “But David’s argument does seem conclusive, doesn’t it?”

“Fine,” Rimmer drew himself up, his tone clipped.  “But I’m watching you, squire.  And if I catch you on that thing then you’re in for it.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Lister purred smugly.

            

            After that, everything happened so quickly.  Lister hadn’t expected anything else, not with Rimmer at the helm, but the following Wednesday he found himself giving Petersen a last hug goodbye before throwing his few travel bags in the back of the Jag and heading to Saturn shuttleport for what would probably be the last time. On arrival, Taylor met him with the keys to his new apartment, “I’ve been over there already, Mister Lister,” he told him as they zipped over in the limo, “Overseeing the transfer of your belongings and the delivery of the items Mister Rimmer ordered for you.  If you want to check everything is present and correct, I’ll help you unpack.”

“That’s great, thank you,” Lister said, genuinely relieved.  He wouldn’t have known where to start if faced with a heap of boxes and, if left to his own devices, would have probably lived out of the boxes until he needed to move again.

            On arrival, he surveyed the scene with bewilderment.  The meagre pile of boxes from Saturn, marked out by his own scrawl across the sides, were dwarfed by the mountain of packages that were the result of Rimmer’s shopping list.  “What the smeg?” Lister bleated, “Where do we even start with sorting this lot out?”

“I took the liberty of opening most of the boxes, Mister Lister.  I think I have some idea of what needs to go where.  It shouldn’t take us all that long to clear the worst of it.”

“Right.  Okay,” Lister agreed dismally, “I’ll put the kettle on and we can get started.”  He disappeared into the kitchen and immediately walked straight out again.  “Taylor?”

“Yes, Mister Lister?”

“Any idea where the kettle might be?”

 

            That night, after Taylor had finally left, Lister looked around his new home with a mixed sense of achievement and disorientation.  Darkness was setting in and all across the city, lights were beginning to burn in the gloom.  He knew he should make himself some dinner, start breaking the place in as it were, but everything felt so new and pristine he couldn’t quite bring himself to shatter the still precision of it all by doing something so crude and necessary as preparing food.  In his new bedroom, he stopped and stared at himself in the spotless full length mirrors that made up the doors of his built in wardrobes.  Looking back at him, he saw a twenty year old man who looked younger.  A young man with an important job in one of the solar system’s biggest firms, who could afford to rent this shiny new flat with its enviable view of the city.  Who had a new Ducati waiting in his secure parking space downstairs and a wardrobe full of designer clothes purchased by his rich lover.  In his sitting room was a huge TV and a state-of-the-art entertainment system, the bed behind him was made up with fluffy down duvets and Egyptian cotton.  

David Lister, who had been dumped under a pool table in Liverpool at six weeks old and had left school with qualifications that wouldn’t have guaranteed him a job in a fast food outlet, was a bigger success then he’d ever believed possible.  And although he’d worked hard for this - studied and sacrificed, served drinks and stacked shelves – he knew that if it wasn’t for one man, he’d still be sitting in his tiny dorm room filling out scholarship forms and nervously awaiting end of term results.  Arnold Rimmer had changed his life in more ways than one but, whatever happened between the two of them, he’d given Lister a future he could have never achieved all on his own.  Lister just wished he could believe the man would play a bigger part in that future.

He called Rimmer’s phone and he answered almost immediately, “Hey there.  Are you all settled in?”

“Yes, I think so.  Tell Taylor I will be forever in his debt.”

“Nonsense, he’s just doing his job.”

“Forget the raise, that guy should be canonised.”

“I’ll tell him you said thanks.”

“Please do.  And thank you too.”

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me.  I’m charging all that stuff to the company, it’s part of your recruitment incentive.”

“I don’t mean the stuff,” Lister told him, “I mean, I _do_...but not just that.  I really do mean everything.  Everything you’ve done for me.  On and off the record.”

“David,” Rimmer told him gently, “Anything and everything I’ve done for you has been utterly selfish and totally my pleasure.”

“You’re not selfish,” Lister told him, “I’ll never believe that.”

“Are you coming over tonight?” Rimmer asked him, his voice soft and inviting.  Lister swallowed hard.  Oh, he wanted to.  He wanted to be wherever the owner of that voice was and he wanted all the things it promised.   But... “Is it okay if I don’t?” he asked mournfully, “I know it sounds weird but I kind of feel like I have to ease into this place.  Try to get it feeling like home.  It never will if I keep running to your place.”

“I understand,” Rimmer said, “Come tomorrow, once you’ve found your feet.”

“I will.”

            Once he’d hung up, Lister walked to the window and gazed out into the growing dark, searching for a light.  He found it and reached up to touch the glass at the spot where it shone.  Suddenly this apartment felt a lot more like home.


	39. Chapter 39

             On the first day of his new job, Lister entered the research centre with more than a little trepidation.  He wasn’t sure how his new colleagues were going to react to this young upstart barging in and offering up opinions on work they’d been progressing for years.  Karl Walker, Wildfire’s project leader who had been so instrumental in Lister being offered this job, was a tall bald man in his fifties with a pleasant but brisk manner that immediately suggested ex-military status to Lister.  He introduced him around and, to Lister’s relief, everyone seemed welcoming.  At lunchtime he timidly entered the staff common room and surveyed the scene uncertainly.  Was it too soon to try and merge into one of the groups he could see milling around the couches and vending machines?  A loud distinctive voice rang out across the room, “David!  David!  You must come here!  You must meet people!”  Petrovitch was in one corner with a group of guys, waving his arms high over his head as though Lister were standing on an adjacent mountain peak instead of fifteen feet away.  Lister grinned and relaxed a little bit.  As he joined them, Petrovitch threw an arm over his shoulders and drew him into the circle.  “Gentlemen, this is my friend David Lister!  He is brilliant engineer and all-round good egg, as you say.  You will like him very much!”  

“Hi,” Lister added sheepishly, shaking hands with each of the group. 

“So you’re Lister,” one of the men remarked warmly, “We’ve heard an awful lot about you round here the last couple of weeks.”

“Really?” Lister asked nervously, considering the list of rumours that might have preceded him into his new job, “Like what?”

“Don’t look like that,” the man smiled, “It’s all good.  I’m looking forward to working with you.  Although, I have to be honest, you’re not how I pictured you at all.”

“You expected someone taller, right?” Lister quipped.

“Actually I was expecting some insufferable post-adolescent geek.  You seem reassuringly normal.”

“Thanks,” Lister remarked, “I’ll put that on my CV next time.  ‘Reassuringly normal’.”  Inside he was thinking, _Man if only you knew what I get up to in my spare time...._

“Do not let David’s small stature fool you,” Petrovitch pitched in, patting him hard on the back, “He conceals great talent within.  They do not call him ‘Spanners’ for no reason!”

“Okay, man.  Steady,” Lister nudged him, embarrassed.

“Spanners,” one of the other guys remarked, “That’s pretty cool.  So, what do you do for fun, Spanners?”  It looked, Lister thought to himself as he started to get to know his colleagues, like the nickname was here to stay.

 

            After work, he slipped out into an empty elevator and tapped in the code for the penthouse.  Rimmer had given him strict instructions to report back on how his first day had gone.  He arrived to find Mrs Jones rummaging through the immense fridge, obviously foraging for their evening meal.  “Hello there,” she greeted him with an excited smile, “How did it all go?”

“Okay, I think.  No disasters yet.”

“Well, that’s a good start then.  Are you hungry?”

“I can wait for dinner.  Is he here?”

“Not yet, but he won’t be long.”

“Is it okay if I take a shower?”

“Of course, my love.  You don’t need permission – and certainly not from me.  You go scrub up then come back here and tell me about your day.”

            Lister went to his room, quickly showered down and changed into fresh clothes.  When he returned to the kitchen, there was a cold bottle of beer waiting on the counter-top.  Not champagne, or wine, or sparkling water.  He cast a look of eternal gratitude at Mrs Jones, who held a finger to her lips and winked.  _Not a word to you know who..._   “Now then,” she said briskly, carrying an armful of ingredients over to the counter and pulling out a chopping board, “You tell me all about it.”

            When Rimmer returned home about twenty minutes later, the empty beer bottle had been stashed in the recycling and Lister was sipping innocently at lemonade through a straw.  “Hey boss,” he smiled.

“Hey,” Rimmer leaned over and kissed his forehead, “Did you have a good first day?”

“I think so.”

“Was everyone nice to you?”

“If I say no are you going to start firing people?”

“Maybe,” Rimmer arched an eyebrow, smiling wickedly.

“Everyone was very kind.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“And it sounds like he’s already made some friends,” Mrs Jones added approvingly.

“Petrovitch introduced me to some of the science department,” Lister told him, “I think they call that ‘networking’ in the business world.”

“Good for you.  I knew you’d do well,” Rimmer went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.  “Let’s drink to a flying start to your career, shall we?”

“Oh well,” Lister said virtuously, sharing a secret look of amusement with Mrs Jones, “If you insist, man...”

            Sometime after dinner, when the two of them were finishing off the bottle of wine on the sofa, Mrs Jones came in with her coat on and bid them goodnight.  “I’ve made you a packed lunch for tomorrow, David,” she told him, “It’s in a bag in the door of the refrigerator.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” Lister protested, surprised.

“It’s my pleasure,” she said firmly, “You two have a nice evening now.”

            When the door closed behind her, Lister turned to Rimmer, “No-one’s made me a packed lunch since I was eleven years old,” he said, both amused and touched.

“She’s a good woman,” Rimmer understated.  

“She does so much for you.  I mean, look at the time.  Doesn’t she have a family?”

“Not anymore.  Her husband died young, I believe.  They had a son – a test pilot in the space corps – but he was killed in an accident while testing a new prototype.  I don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it.”

“That’s terrible,”

“It’s the nature of the job.”

“All heart you are!”

“I’m not saying it isn’t sad,” Rimmer replied peevishly, “I’m just being realistic.  Test pilots tend to be the type of people who are more focused on ambition than family feeling.”  Lister remembered that Rimmer’s brother John was a test pilot and decided not to challenge the generalisation.  He changed the subject.  

       “How did she end up working for you?” he asked.

“I advertised,” Rimmer said simply.

“I would _love_ to see what you put in that job description.” 

“I went through an agency to maintain a degree of anonymity, of course.  But basically I just wanted a housekeeper who didn’t mind some rather more specialised tasks.”

“Like polishing spreader bars?”

“Exactly.”

“What did she say when you showed her the playroom?”

“You want to know her exact words?”

“Yeah, man!”

“As I recall, her first words were ‘I bet the underside of that bed’s not seen a hoover in many a year’.  That’s when I knew she was the right woman for the job.”  

Lister rocked with laughter, delighted.  “I don’t pretend to know much about her private life,” Rimmer continued, “But I do know that she’s never displayed the slightest shock or surprise at anything I’ve ever thrown at her.  And that’s saying a lot.”

“You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?” Lister asked softly.  Rimmer squirmed uncomfortably, 

“I have a lot of respect for her.  And she’s never judged me.  For that reason alone she’s one of the few people in the world that I completely trust.”

“Who else is there?” Lister asked intrigued.

“Taylor.  He’s the only member of my staff who is permitted to carry a gun.  When you’ve been shot dead once already, let me tell you, that requires a lot of faith.”

“Does he know everything?”

“Not everything, but he’s happy with that.  He knows enough to have made an informed decision about the kind of man he’s working for.  And I have a lawyer who knows everything - about my family, about my interests, all of it.  That’s it.”

              “What about me?” Lister asked shyly.  Rimmer smiled sadly.  He leaned over and gave Lister a gentle kiss, 

“No baby,” he said, “I don’t trust you completely.”

“Why not?” Lister asked, hurt.

“Because you’re still young and feisty and impetuous.  And I don’t know where you’ll be – in your life or mine – in one year or five years...or even a few weeks.  Understand?”

“I’m not impetuous,” Lister muttered, sipping his drink sulkily, secretly thinking _‘Five years...Is he really thinking that far ahead...?’_ Rimmer smiled knowingly, “If you weren’t,” he told him pointedly, “You wouldn’t be sitting here with me right now.  And I certainly wouldn’t have a certain piece of paper with your name signed at the bottom which entitles me to do... oooh....all sorts of wicked, terrible things to you, now would I?”  He reached over and took Lister’s glass away, “Speaking of which...”  He pulled him into a kiss, “I think it’s just about playtime.”

 

.


	40. Chapter 40

            “Are we going to move this party down the hall?” Lister enquired curiously a few minutes later, when he was reclining naked across the sofa with Rimmer kissing his way down his body.  

“No need,” Rimmer murmured, “I’m very comfortable right here.”

“Really?” Lister asked, surprised, “Don’t tell me you’re in the mood for a taste of vanilla.”

“Oh no,” Rimmer assured him, running his nose along the inside of Lister’s thigh, “I’m never going to be a vanilla man, Listy.”

“So, don’t you need to get some...ah!...sprinkles?”

“Baby, when are you going to learn?” Rimmer asked condescendingly, “I’m a very creative man.  I can find sprinkles anywhere.”

“That sounds like a challenge to me,” Lister grinned.

“Very well,” Rimmer sat up, “What would you say if I told you I could find everything I need to do this just by emptying my jacket pockets?”

“Knowing you,” Lister replied, “I’d say that the contents of your jacket probably make it an unfair bet.  Most men don’t carry handcuffs unless they’re cops.”

“Let’s see, shall we?”

            Rimmer stood up, retrieved his suit jacket from the back of a chair and started to investigate.  “Right, what have we here?”  Lister propped himself up on one arm and watched him, amused.  “There’s my wallet,” Rimmer dropped it onto the coffee table, “A pen, a swiss army knife, some elastic bands tied into a ball, and some hair-gel.  Oh,” he patted the inside pocket and retrieved a final item, “And half a bag of jelly babies.”

“I know I’m not as experienced as you in these matters,” Lister remarked, “But it seems to me that jelly babies are not an obvious weapon of eroticism.”

“Perhaps not,” Rimmer beckoned him over, “But I think I can work with this.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lister stood up and sauntered into his arms, “I’m intrigued.  Alarmed – but intrigued.”  Rimmer kissed him, long and deep, then whispered the familiar words.

“On your knees, squire.”

            Lister knelt down on the floor and rested expectantly on his haunches.  “Now put your hands behind your back, palms together.”  Again Lister obeyed.  Rimmer circled him.  “What you still have to learn,” Rimmer told him, “Is that bondage is about different things for different people.  For some people it’s a specific fetish, like rubber or leather.  For some people it’s about release, about daring to do things that would never be acceptable in day to day life.  For me it’s about power.  It’s about control.  However beautiful you look bound up in tight black leather straps – and you do, by the way – I’d be just as happy seeing you trussed up with a plastic washing line.”  Rimmer knelt down behind him and covered his hands with his own, gently stroking his fingers.  Lister heard a soft snapping sound and the next thing he knew, Rimmer was winding an elastic band tightly around his little fingers, binding them together.  He pulled experimentally and realised the genius of it.  There wasn’t enough strength in those fingers to snap the bands loose, and the non-slip texture of the rubber meant he couldn’t slide them off.  He was pinned.  

“That’s...very effective,” he remarked grudgingly.

“Isn’t it though?” Rimmer replied smugly.  He reached down and tickled the soles of Lister’s feet lightly and he yelped, almost tipping over, 

“No, not my feet, man!”

“Ticklish, Listy?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“How interesting...” Rimmer drew a lazy line under Lister’s toes and he squealed indignantly, trying instinctively to kick him away.  

“Stop!  Stop!  Stop it!”

Rimmer laughed, “Marvellous.  That info is being filed away for another day.”

“No way!  Tickling my feet is now a hard limit!”

“Oh, come on.  Honestly?”

“I am not kidding!  No tickling!”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll try not to tickle you while I do this.”  He wrapped another elastic band around Lister’s left and right big toe.

            “Now then,” he straightened up and ran a hand down the back of Lister’s neck, “I think you’ll find that holds you quite securely,” he bent over and kissed him.  “One of the things that fascinates me about bondage is how simple it can be.  How easy it is to render someone helpless, just by finding a weak spot or a pressure point.  I could lock you in stocks or wrap you in chains, but all I actually need to make you powerless is a couple of elastic bands.  It’s incredible really.  And as you already know,” he stretched the last band meaningfully in front of Lister’s face, “If I really wanted to mess with you, I could wrap this around somewhere _very_ sensitive.”  Lister took a deep breath and Rimmer smiled, “But I’m not going to do that today.”  Lister let his breath out, relieved.  

Rimmer sat down in the chair his jacket had been lying on, “Instead, we’re going to play a little game.”  He picked up the bag of jelly babies.  “We’re going to play catch.”

“I think I can see where this is going,” Lister said.

“I’m going to throw you sweeties.  And if you can catch one, then you get to have an orgasm tonight.  If you don’t, then you’re going to spend all night servicing me.  And I mean _all_ night.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister smiled, “And what happens if I catch more than one?” 

“Don’t look so confident,” Rimmer added, drawing a jelly baby out of the bag, “I’m a _lousy_ aim.”

            Ten minutes later, there were a number of jelly babies scattered on the floor around Lister and they were still playing.  Most of them he’d either just missed, or they had sailed past him impossibly.  One had bounced infuriatingly off his nose.  “You’re cheating!” he complained, “You’re not even trying to get them in my mouth!”

“I warned you I was a bad aim,” Rimmer said innocently, “It looks like you have a long night ahead of you.”  He tossed another sweet and Lister, quick as a flash, sat up and snapped it out of the air – losing his balance and toppling over in the process.  “Yes!” he chirped enthusiastically from the floor, “I did it!  I did it!  Dave Lister scores!”

“I can’t believe that!” Rimmer stared at him, shocked, “What a fluke!”

“That wasn’t a fluke!  I’m a master at catching stuff in my mouth.  Throw me another one!”

“I think the game’s over.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.  C’mon, I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“I didn’t realise you were so competitive.”

“Hey, you’re the one who made this a game, man.”

“I think you’re forgetting what the purpose of the game was.”

“No, I’m not.  I just want the sweeties as well.”

            Rimmer scooped him up and bent him purposefully over the coffee table, unzipping his own trousers. “You know this was supposed to be humiliating,” he told him huffily.

“When it comes to jelly babies, I have no shame,” Lister replied cheerfully.

“Is that so?  I wonder what else I could get you to do for a bag of sweets?”

“You have no idea how creepy that sounds, man.”

“Well, I had no idea you were a sugar slut.”

“Forget the sweets,” Lister panted as Rimmer’s body pressed against him, “I don’t want them nearly as much as I want you.”

“Well, there’s a dose of my sugar coming right up,” Rimmer’s lips and hands moved over him deliciously and Lister moaned.  

“You know what really sucks about this whole bondage thing?” he asked Rimmer breathlessly.

“Tell me,”

“I hate that I can’t touch you right now.”

“It’s all part of the game, baby.  And believe me, you’re going to have plenty to touch later on.”  Rimmer flipped Lister’s locks out of the way and kissed the back of his neck, then reached over to scoop up the tube of hair gel.  “Please tell me you’re not stopping to sort your hair out now,” Lister complained.

“I’m just having a look at the instructions,” he replied calmly.

“And what do they say?”

“I’ll tell you what they _don’t_ say.  ‘For external use only’.”

“Most people wouldn’t need it spelled out.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“It says water-based and organic,” Rimmer popped the cap, “That’s good enough for me.”

              A little while later, Rimmer picked up his penknife and cut through the bands holding Lister’s fingers together.  He stretched out and started helping himself to some of the jelly babies he’d missed earlier while Rimmer freed his toes.  

“David, are you eating off the floor?”

“What?  They’re only sweets.  And Mrs Jones keeps this place clean.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, please.  I’ve put worse than this in my mouth before and lived to tell the tale.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Believe me, you don’t.”

“Enough talk,” Rimmer pulled him into his arms, “We’re not done here.”

“You know, some of us have work tomorrow,” Lister protested between kisses.

“I hear your boss is very demanding.”

“You’ve got that right.  It seems like that guy is always on my back.”

“It’s lucky you’ve got a short commute then.”

“I can’t stay here all the time.”

“No,” Rimmer said after a pause, “I suppose not.  But you can stay tonight.  And that means...” He scooped Lister up and started carrying him to the playroom, “You’re all mine until 9am tomorrow.”

 


	41. Chapter 41

            Over the next few weeks they began to fall into a routine.  Lister settled in quickly at work and he was fairly sure that nobody had any suspicions about his relationship with the chief executive.  On the rare nights when either he or Rimmer had work or social commitments in the evening, Lister would return to his flat in the city – otherwise he would go straight to the penthouse after work and spend the night there.  It made life so much easier when he was more or less living and working in the same place and he already had an employee parking space at the hub for his bike, so that wasn’t an issue.  Every now and then he made a point of staying in his own flat, simply because he was paying for it but, more often than not, he stayed with Rimmer.  

            One day his phone rang in his overall pocket at work and he pulled it out, surprised.  He rarely received calls at work as so many of his friends were in the same building.  He was even more surprised to see that the name on the screen was Rimmer’s.  He never phoned him at work normally.  

“Hello?” he answered it cautiously, glancing around.

“Hey,” Rimmer said briskly, “I’ve got tickets for a play tonight.”

“Oh, okay,” Lister said, “I’ll head back to mine after work then.”

“I meant I have tickets for _us_ to see a play tonight,” Rimmer clarified, exasperated.

“A play?  Really?”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“What is it?”

“Shakespeare in the botanical gardens.”

“What fun.”

“Don’t be so plebeian.  You might enjoy it.”

“A bunch of guys in frilly shirts talking gibberish and pretending to stab each other?  Sure, can’t wait.”

“It’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’.  There won’t be any stabbing.”

“You’re really selling this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve got to go, there’s going to be a lot of important people there.  I have to show my face.  So don’t stay late at work.”

Lister sighed to himself, “This isn’t going to be optional, is it?”

“No.”

“Do I have to wear a suit?”

“No, but you do have to look smart.  I’ll put out some clothes for you.”

“What time does it start?”

“Seven.”

“I have to go back to mine first.”

“What for?”

“To check it hasn’t burned down.  And I told one of the guys at work I’d dig out an article for him that’s in with all my college stuff.”

“Do you need to do it tonight?”

“I said I would; and I should have plenty of time if I leave here at five.  It’ll only take me half an hour to get there, do what I have to and get back here.  Forty-five minutes at most.”

“Do you want me to send the car for you?”

“No, it’s fine.  If the traffic is bad I’ll be better off on the bike.”

“Okay.  But don’t dawdle.”

“Yes, Sir,” Lister rolled his eyes.

“Laters, baby,” Rimmer signed off, his voice becoming less brusque as he said it.  

Lister smiled, “Laters.”

 

After work, he zipped across town on the Ducati to his apartment building.  His front door was still attached, so he took that as a good sign that there hadn’t been a gas explosion or a burglary since he’d last stopped by and went straight to the bedroom to drag out the box full of his college files.  He found the article he was looking for, dotted with highlighter and notes down the edge.  He folded it up and put it in the inside pocket of his leather jacket, patted his panda bear on the head and left again.  As he fired up the bike, he checked his watch.  In and out in fifteen minutes.  The boss couldn’t complain about that.

He was waiting at the traffic lights on his way back to the hub when he saw the car again, reflected in his mirror.  He rolled his eyes and wondered if it was time to say something to Rimmer.  He’d been on Jupiter less than a week when he first saw it parked outside his building and did a double take.  He couldn’t be sure – it had been dark on both occasions – but it looked like the car he had almost got into outside Joe’s Bar on the night of his leaving party.  He’d dismissed it as a coincidence at the time, but over the last few weeks he had begun to see it regularly and there was only one explanation.  Rimmer was spying on him.

When he’d first realised, he had gone through a whole spectrum of emotions.  First there had been fury and a sense of betrayal; but after he’d had time to think about it more carefully he remembered the warning Peterson and Petrovitch had given him, that getting involved with someone like Rimmer came with dangers greater than whips and chains.  The likelihood was that these guys were bodyguards, not spies sent to check that he wasn’t breaking the rules by riding his other bike or eating at McDonalds.  He would have liked to have been consulted but he didn’t need to be told why Rimmer hadn’t said anything.  If Rimmer had announced that he’d hired a security team to follow Lister around, he would have been livid and he wouldn’t have agreed.  He still wasn’t happy about it, but the knowledge that Rimmer cared enough to protect him tempered the annoyance.  

So far he had refrained from confronting him about it because he didn’t want an argument - and once Rimmer knew that he knew, he would _have_ to put up at least a token protest because the last thing he wanted was to encourage Rimmer’s inner stalker by letting him think that what he’d done was okay – but also because, much as he hated to admit it, it did make him feel safer.  While their relationship was still very much under wraps here on Jupiter, Lister was aware that back on Saturn there were too many people who either knew about their involvement or had heard rumours.  And, as Petrovitch had pointed out, the rumours alone could be enough to cause trouble.

As he pulled into the car park at Rimmer Central and made the long ascension to the penthouse, he debated over whether to come clean and just have it out.  When the lift doors opened and Rimmer pounced on him, he decided against it.  This evening was going to be arduous enough already without squabbling.  “You said you were only going to be forty-five minutes,” Rimmer reminded him after their kiss had ended, “The time is now five forty-seven.  You’re two minutes late.”

“Forgive me, Sir,” Lister replied with sweet sarcasm, “I stopped at a red light.  I’ll go through it next time.”

“Go on,” Rimmer steered him towards his room, “Look sharp, miladdio.  You have forty-three minutes exactly to shower, dress and eat.  Although not necessarily in that order.”

“Why don’t you bring my food into the bathroom and you can spoon-feed me while I wash?” Lister suggested, “That would save time.”

“You don’t have time for sarcasm,” Rimmer replied haughtily, “Forty-two minutes and counting.”

“No time for a quickie then?”

“Hop it, Squire!”

“Okay, okay.”

            Lister’s expectations of the evening plummeted further when Rimmer handed him his ticket in the limo on the way to the show.  “What do you mean, we’re not sitting together?” he demanded.

“Well, it will look a bit suspicious if we show up together, won’t it?” Rimmer pointed out.  

“What are you going to do?  Kick me out of the limo halfway there and make me walk the rest of the way so no-one sees us?”

“Of course not.  Taylor will just drop you off at the other entrance.”

“Why did you insist on me coming with you if you’re going to spend the whole evening ignoring me?” Lister asked, frustrated.

“Look, it’s only for the performance.  I’ll catch up with you at the interval, act surprised to see you and we’ll arrange to meet up after the show for a drink and a little business talk.  All very plausible.  It’s not like we can talk during the play anyway.”

“Fine,” Lister slid moodily to the other side of the seat, “I suppose I should just be grateful that I’m not about to sit through three hours of Shakespeare with a vibrator up my butt.”

“Yes, you should,” Rimmer patted his hand condescendingly, “Because if you hadn’t come home late, you would be.”

            Lister’s mood lifted a little once the performance started.  The gardens had been decorated all around with scores of gently flickering fairy lights in a myriad of colours and it really did look beautiful.  The story wasn’t as hard to follow as he had feared and he even caught himself giggling a couple of times.  When they broke for the interval, he headed to the marquee and was handed a glass of Pimms.  He tried to find a corner that would be obvious enough for Rimmer to spot him, but unobtrusive enough that absolutely nobody else would, and waited.  After a few minutes he spotted Rimmer in the crowd, talking to a small group of people.  He waited for him to make eye contact, wave to him, anything, but Rimmer steadfastly ignored him.  Wounded, Lister was ready to go over there, make his presence known and to smeg with the consequences, when the man standing to Rimmer’s left broke away from the group and Lister got a proper look at the woman he’d been speaking too.  It was Marlena Vandoren.

            He quickly sidled away and hid behind another large group.  They might have been able to pull off the ‘fancy seeing you here’ charade with anyone else but Lister didn’t think Mrs Vandoren would be so easily taken in.  If she saw him here, even if he wasn’t hovering by Rimmer’s side, she’d put two and two together, he was sure; and he wasn’t at all convinced they could count on her to be discreet.  He quickly downed his drink and headed back to his seat, head down.  As the audience began to drift back in for the second half, his phone purred silently in his pocket.  He pulled it out and read the message.  _Sorry about that.  Meet me at the entrance to the forest walk after the show – I’ll make it up to you.  Promise._ Lister sighed to himself and settled down to watch the rest of the play.  At least there were some people, he mused as the final curtain went down, whose love lives were more complex than his.

           As the rest of the crowd flowed towards the park exits, Lister slipped away and followed the signs to the forest walk.  After a minute or so, Rimmer joined him and they headed down the woodchip path, away from the hustle and bustle into quiet seclusion.  “Won’t Taylor be waiting for us?” Lister asked.

“Yes,” Rimmer allowed, “But he’ll wait as long as he needs to.  There’s no rush.”

“So long as we don’t get locked in here.”

“We won’t stay long.”

“You didn’t tell me Mrs Robinson was going to be joining us.”

“I didn’t know.  Although I suppose if I’d really thought about it I might have guessed; she was a likely candidate for the VIP list.”

“I don’t think she saw me.”

“No.  But it’s not the end of the world if she did.”

“She’ll know I was here with you.”

“It doesn’t matter.  She might have had some fun making us uncomfortable tonight if she’d got a chance, but she won’t cause any trouble.  I told you, she’s got secrets of her own.”  

            They were deep amongst the trees now, the voices behind them as faint as the sound of a distant waterfall.  Rimmer put an arm around his waist as they walked, “Did you enjoy the play?”

“More than I expected to.  It wasn’t as hard to understand as I thought it would be.”

“Maybe you’re smarter than you think.”

“Could’ve done with some stabbing though,” Lister joked, “Just to keep things lively.”

“I’ll take you to ‘Hamlet’ next then.  It’s got all the murder and stabbing you could ask for.”

“Oh, goody.”

            Lister stepped away from him and swung lazily around a tree, “And will you ignore me all through that as well?” he asked sweetly.  Rimmer watched him with a resigned smile, 

“It’s going to be a while before I hear the end of this, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Lister wandered to the next tree and peered around it playfully, “That all depends on how you plan on making it up to me.”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways.”

“Such as?” Lister peeped flirtatiously around the other side of the tree and Rimmer smiled.  

“Well, I was considering letting you stop at the drive-through for a milkshake on the way home.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.  Seriously, milkshake?  That’s all you got, man?”

            Rimmer took a step towards him and Lister darted to the next tree and hid behind it.  “You’re gonna have to offer me something better than that!”  He glimpsed around the trunk and grinned cheekily.  Rimmer looked at him with amusement.  “You look like Puck playing in the forest,” he told him.

“I suppose that would make you Oberon, my lord and master,” Lister replied, playing along.

“You know what, I take it back.  Puck was _obedient_.”  Lister disappeared back behind the tree, laughing.  “Come on then, tell me,” Rimmer called, “What gift can this king bestow upon his loyal subject?”

“I’m assuming you brought me down this dark path into the enchanted forest for more than an apology?” Lister prompted.  Rimmer suddenly swung around the tree trunk and pinned him up against the bark.  “You assume right,” he said graciously and kissed him.

            Perhaps it was the fresh night air, rich with the heady clean scent of damp earth and green leaves, or just the glittering beauty of the fairy-lit canopy above them, but Lister was instantly lost.  He fumbled for a moment with Rimmer’s belt, then immediately reached for him, stroked him, drew him out.  Rimmer moaned and thrust into his hand.  Lister squeezed him firmly and gently bit his bottom lip, “I want you,” he whispered, “I want you to do me right here.”

            Without a word, Rimmer spun him around, pressed him up tight against the tree and pulled his trousers down just far enough to enter him.  Lister gritted his teeth as he felt Rimmer’s cock penetrate him, the tip of it just barely lubricated with pre-come.  “Okay?” Rimmer asked him breathlessly.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, “I’m good.”

“Good,” Rimmer pushed into him fully and he moaned, leaning against the tree for support.  There was something about their height difference, Lister had learned before now, which meant that Rimmer’s cock pressed just perfectly against a particularly sweet spot inside him when they fucked standing up, as if they’d been made precisely to fit each other.  Rimmer’s fist wrapped tightly around his cock and he moaned again, louder.  “You like that, hmmm?” Rimmer growled against his ear.

“Oh, yeah...”

“Do you like it enough to forgive me for this evening?”

“Forgive what?” Lister asked blankly.  All he could think about was the blissful feeling of Rimmer inside him, the firm hot pressure of his hand on his cock.  

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Rimmer remarked.  He pushed deeper into Lister, forcing him up onto tiptoe and making him gasp.  He threw his head back and stared up at the tiny lights hanging in the branches above him.  His vision blurred and the points of light splintered and expanded like supernovas in front of his eyes.  “Oh...please...” he whispered, “Oh God.  Just _do_ it...”

 

Rimmer obeyed.

 

            

 


	42. Chapter 42

            Lister awoke in his room at the hub later that night, wondering why he’d been dreaming about a fairground and a huge carousel that had motorbikes instead of horses circling it.  As he slowly regained some cognitive ability, he became aware of soft music playing nearby, some kind of circus instrument.  He rolled over in bed and looked at his phone.  Four in the morning.  Bemused, he dragged himself out from under the covers and tottered unsteadily into the hallway.  The music was definitely coming from inside the apartment.  He followed the sound and halted uncertainly at an unopened door in front of him.  Despite the amount of time he spent here, there were whole areas of the penthouse he’d never even seen.  He’d always assumed they were mostly guest rooms or offices and he’d never considered it his place to investigate without invitation.  However, the strange music had stirred his curiosity and anyway, he mused as he cautiously turned the handle, whatever it was couldn’t be any more shocking than the playroom.

            He tiptoed inside and saw Rimmer sitting at the keyboard of a large organ in his silk robe, playing by candlelight.  Lister thought he recognised the tune, some piece of classical music, but the warped tomes of the organ made it hard to tell what it was.  Either Rimmer was a terrible musician or this was the worst sounding instrument Lister had ever come across.  He hesitated in the doorway.  He knew it wasn’t unusual for Rimmer to be up at this hour – the man had no need of sleep – but something about this scene struck Lister as odd even so.  It was surreal enough being woken in the middle of the night by this strange ghastly music, but finding Rimmer sat here playing like some bizarre incarnation of the phantom of the opera in a dressing gown, hiding above the city instead of under it, was too much for his sleep befuddled brain.  “What are you doing?” he asked stupidly.

            Rimmer jumped slightly and turned to face him, “I’m sorry.  Did I wake you?”

“Well, yeah.  But don’t sweat it.  I mean it’s your place, you can do what you like.  I’m just curious as to why you’re up tickling the ivories at this hour.”

“I find it helps me relax.  The Hammond organ has such a soothing sound, don’t you think?”

“You mean it’s supposed to sound like that?”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Rimmer replied haughtily.

“Fair enough.”  Lister wandered over and joined him on the bench in front of the keyboard.  He pressed a key experimentally and wrinkled his nose at the resulting sound.  “Are you stressed about something?”

            It occurred to Lister that Rimmer had been oddly quiet that evening.  They’d barely spoken on the way home in the limo, although they had slumped together comfortably enough in the back seat; Lister with his head resting on Rimmer’s shoulder, their fingers loosely threaded together.  Lister had assumed that, like him, Rimmer was simply recovering from their impromptu session in the garden.

            “No,” Rimmer said evasively, “Not stressed exactly.”

“But?” Lister nudged.  Rimmer tapped distractedly at a few random notes.

“More...unsettled,” he admitted.

“Why?  About what?”

“I’m not sure you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“It’s just...I’m not used to losing control like that.”

“Like what?” Lister asked, confused.

“This evening.  In the garden.”

“Eh?”

“When we were...fucking,” Rimmer explained.  Lister thought he heard the faintest pause there, as if Rimmer had been about to say something else and stopped himself.  

“What about it?” he asked.

“Don’t you get it?” Rimmer faced him.

“No,” Lister replied blankly.

“Think,” Rimmer told him earnestly, “What was different about tonight, David?”

            Lister racked his brains, replaying the event in his mind.  The sex had been hot, no doubt, but he couldn’t think of a moment when he would have described Rimmer as out of control.  “I’m sorry, man,” he said, “But you’ve lost me.  I can’t think of anything you did that seemed different.”

“It’s not what I did,” Rimmer glared at the organ, tapping out another tuneless string of unrelated notes, “It’s what I didn’t do.”  Lister took a deep breath, trying to keep his patience.  It wasn’t dawn yet and they were already playing games?  _Playing games..._   “Oh,” he remarked softly, understanding.

            When they’d had sex in the garden tonight, there had been no games.  There had been no cuffs or chains restraining him.  There had been no orders to follow - to keep silent or keep his hands on the back of his neck.  There had been no spanking, no sex toys, no role-play.  They had been just two people hot for each other, satisfying their desire in a dark corner of the park, as no doubt countless others before them had done.  They had been, to anyone who might have stumbled upon their tryst, like any other couple.  

“Oh, I get it.  You’re embarrassed because you got caught up in the moment and forgot to play by the rules.”

“That’s never happened before,” Rimmer said darkly, fingering the keys with a troubled expression.  

“Relax,” Lister remarked dryly, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Come on, man.  What’s the big deal?  You let your hair down a little and went with the flow for a change.”

“I don’t ‘ _let my hair down_ ’.” Rimmer replied witheringly, “The rules are important.  The boundaries are in place for a reason.”

“And what reason is that?”

“For protection.  Yours and mine.  I can’t allow myself to get carried away like that again.”

“God forbid,” Lister quipped, rolling his eyes.

            Rimmer rounded on him angrily, “Don’t be so flippant.  This is all your fault anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“This would have never happened with anyone else.  If you acted more like a proper submissive, we wouldn’t be in this situation.  You led me astray.”

“Well, _there’s_ an interesting take on the ‘situation’,” Lister folded his arms indignantly, “I’d never even heard of half the crap you’ve introduced me to since we met and somehow _I’m_ the one who’s a bad influence?”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Rimmer reached over and cupped his face in one hand, “You don’t understand the world I’m used to.  You don’t understand how _different_ you are.  I knew this was going to be hard but I never anticipated just how much.”

“What do you mean?” Lister asked anxiously.  Rimmer let go of him and cradled his head in his hands.  

“I thought the tricky part would be getting you to accept what I wanted from you in the playroom.  I thought you’d be frightened, maybe even disgusted by some of what I wanted you to do.  Considering how new you are to all this, you’ve been remarkably accommodating.  You have a curious, adventurous, spirit.  But that’s the problem.”

            He turned to face Lister, “Do you remember the story of Peter Pan?”

“Um...yeah,” Lister said, confused.  This hardly seemed the time or place for children’s stories.  

“Do you remember how his shadow had a life of its own?  How it used to get away and he’d have to chase it down and pin it back on?”

“Yeah,”

“Well, that’s how I feel with you.  It feels like no matter what I do with you, there’s always the part that I can’t command.  I can tie you up, wrap you in chains, beat you, torment you, control when you come...but however tight I tie your bonds, I can always see that spark - that spirit – slipping away from me laughing.  I can’t _master_ you.”

“I’m trying,” Lister said, wounded, “I really am trying to be obedient and submissive.  I’m just not used to it.”  Rimmer shook his head.

“This isn’t about obedience, Dave.  It’s about something deeper than that.  A true submissive gives themselves completely.  I’m used to looking into someone’s eyes and seeing total subservience.  To knowing that everything they are belongs to me without question.  Knowing that I am their master in every sense of the word.  When I look at you I don’t feel that.  I feel powerless.  I feel like I’m failing.”

            Lister reached over and took his hand, “I _do_ belong to you,” he said desperately, “I know I’m not good at this.  I know I probably break a hundred unwritten rules of how a sub is supposed to behave every day we’re together.  But I do _want_ to please you.  I really do.”  Rimmer squeezed his hand tenderly,

“I know you do.  And I know you’re doing your best.  But I have a feeling...” he reached up and gently touched a finger between Lister’s eyes, “...that shadow of yours will always have a mind of its own.”

“What can I do?” Lister asked, “How can I make this better?”

            Rimmer regarded him thoughtfully, gently stroking his thumb around Lister’s palm.  His hazel eyes sparkled with some dark notion in the candlelight.  “There is something we could try...” he said cautiously, “Something that might make me feel more in control again.”

“Anything,” Lister said rashly, then back pedalled slightly, “Within the limits, I mean.”

“Of course,” Rimmer smiled.  “This was something you agreed to in the contract, but I wasn’t going to try it.  Not yet anyway.  This is something very intense and I’m not sure if you truly understood when you agreed to it.”

“Okay,” Lister said slowly.

“Tell me,” Rimmer asked him, “What you think ‘breath control’ means.”

“Erm...Isn’t that like what women do when they’re having a baby?  Don’t they have pre-natal classes or something to teach them how to breathe when they’re giving birth?”

“Well, yes,” Rimmer looked highly amused, “But how would that be relevant to us exactly?”

“I dunno,” Lister shrugged, “I thought maybe you were going to teach me some tantric far-eastern breathing technique for when we’re having sex or something.  Either that or some very weird role-playing scenario.”

“I know I’ve said it before,” Rimmer told him, “But you really do never cease to amaze me.  No, I do not expect you to pretend you’re having a baby as part of any sex game.  We’re discussing something a little different here.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

            Rimmer continued gently stroking his hand.  “Breath play,” he told him softly, “Means letting me control whether you can breathe or not.”  Lister digested this for a second.  

“Isn’t that dangerous?” he asked after a beat.

“Yes,” Rimmer said honestly, “People have died before doing this.  But never in this apartment,” he added with a teasing smile.  “I know what I’m doing.”

“Wow,” Lister said.  When he’d said ‘anything’ just now, he hadn’t expected Rimmer to come back at him with something potentially life-threatening. 

“The upside as far as you’re concerned,” Rimmer told him, taking stock of his less than enthusiastic reaction, “Is that, if it’s timed well, oxygen starvation can prolong and intensify orgasms.”

“Huh,” Lister remarked, still in shock, “Never knew that.”

“It’s your decision,” Rimmer told him, “You know I will never make you do anything you don’t want to do.  Especially something as big as this.”

“Okay,”

“And if you say yes, and then change your mind – at any time – we’ll stop right away.”

“How can I ask you to stop if I can’t breathe?” Lister asked him flatly.  Rimmer smiled and raised Lister’s hand to his lips, 

“That,” he told him softly, “Is where you’ll just have to trust me.”

            Lister swallowed hard.  His heart was pounding and his subconscious was practically numb with horror.  _You’re kidding, right?  You’re not actually thinking about this.  You’re not even considering it.  People have **died** for smeg’s sake!  He said so himself. What is the matter with you?_   Lister searched himself.  This scared him, no question.  He hadn’t felt like this since the moment he’d first clapped eyes on Rimmer’s playroom and realised where he was and what he’d just walked into.  This was the first time since that initial shock that he’d felt like he might be in danger.  It wasn’t a nice feeling.  But...

\- _He’s done this before and it was fine.  He’s told me that he would never do anything with me that he thought would be dangerous._

_\- ‘Unacceptably’!  The words he used were ‘unacceptably dangerous’.  I think this qualifies as unacceptable._

_\- He says he knows what he’s doing._

_\- Yeah, well the captain of the Titanic thought the same thing.  It’s time to jump ship, kid, and grab a lifeboat while you still can.  This cruise is over._

_\- I want to do it._

_\- What?  WHAT WHAT WHAT???_

_\- I want to do this._

Lister gazed across at Rimmer’s tense face as he awaited his response.  He did want to do this, even though it frightened him.  Not for the incredible orgasm Rimmer had promised, or even to please the man sitting before him, but because Rimmer had said something that had hit home.  All those weeks ago when Lister had signed that contract, he had done it out of raging desire; but also curiosity.  Rimmer had promised to take him to the edge of experience and so far he had delivered.  This was just one more step along that path.  But Lister had not delivered on his side of the bargain.  He’d been obedient, to the best of his admittedly limited ability, but he had not given himself over completely.  Rimmer was right.  He had been playing the part, not living it, and every time Rimmer tied him up or strapped him down, there was a little part of him that slipped to one side and watched the action from a safe distance.  And more often than not, that part of him was giggling.

            He remembered asking himself, the day after he was given the contract, how it would feel to actually belong to Rimmer.  The idea had disturbed him, but aroused him too.  Maybe this was the moment when he had to finally choose.  Was he going to continue playing at this, or was he going to let go of twenty years of fear and insecurity and do what he came here for?

           “Alright then,” he said quietly, “I’ll do it.  I’ll trust you.”  Rimmer stood up eagerly, bringing Lister to his feet with him.  “Remember,” he told him, “You can change your mind at any time.”

“I know,” Lister clung nervously to his hand, “Sir.”  

Rimmer smiled and kissed him. 


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't try this at home, kiddies! Rimmer is an expert.

            When they stepped into the playroom, Lister felt a frisson of combined excitement and anxiety, the like of which he hadn’t experienced since his first night here.  How was Rimmer going to do this?  Was he going to put a choke chain on him like a dog, or simply wrap those long powerful fingers around his throat and squeeze?  The idea of what he was about to do filled him with a peculiar mix of quiet panic and deep exhilaration, his entire being was thrumming with nervous energy.  

Rimmer led him by the hand to the bed and gently removed the t-shirt and shorts he was wearing, leaving him naked.  “Lie down,” he ordered softly, “And wait.”

“Yes, sir.”     _Don’t do this_ , his subconscious wailed plaintively as he reclined back across the bed.  _Tell him you’ve changed your mind.  This is too much.  It’s too dangerous!_   Lister ignored the inner voice and waited.  He watched Rimmer walk to the cabinet and retrieve something from one of the drawers.  It was a long thick ribbon of white silk wrapped up into a ball.  He returned to the bed, unwrapped one end and let the cool luscious fabric spill down.  He trailed the tail of it down Lister’s body teasingly, making him squirm.  “I’m going to use this to bind you to the bed.  I bought it especially for you and I’ve been waiting for a chance to use it.  I’ve wanted to see you bound with white silk since the first moment I saw you naked in my bed.  Don’t be fooled by how soft it is.  Silk can be very strong.”

            He set about methodically tying Lister’s hands and feet so he was spread out across the bed but, to Lister’s surprise, rather than using knots, he wound the silk just loosely around his limbs, then crisscrossed it via a metal loop set into the wooden canopy of the bed.  The effect made Lister feel like he was trapped in a large spider web.  Finally, Rimmer was left holding the two ends.  He knelt astride Lister and wrapped them ceremoniously around his throat in overlapping opposite directions, and finally pulled slowly.  As he exerted the pressure, the silk coils tightened, sliding against each other like oiled snakes as they closed around his wrists, ankles and throat.  Lister gasped at the sensation of the strange combination, the sensuous feeling of the soft silk gliding over his skin and the sudden shock of tight bondage as he was stretched out and held tight.  Rimmer leaned over and lightly kissed his lips.  “Listen to me very carefully now,” he said gravely.  Lister stared up at him solemnly.  If ever there was a time to start taking this thing seriously, it was now.

            “I’m going to go slowly.  At first I’ll only restrict your airway slightly.  You’ll still be able to breathe, but not deeply.  Gradually, I’ll build up to cutting off your air supply completely for a few seconds.  Then a little longer, if you can stand it.  Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered faintly.  _You’re going to die.  He’s going to strangle you.  You’ll choke to death_ , his subconscious insisted sullenly.  

“If you want me to stop then let me know straight away, if you can.  Remember your safety words.  Whatever you do, don’t start struggling because you’ll probably only end up pulling the bonds tighter.  Stay calm and don’t fight it.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you want me to stop and you can’t speak, then stick your tongue out.  That will be my signal that you need to breathe.  Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”  _Oh smeg, what am I doing?_ Rimmer heard the tremor in his voice and bent over to kiss him again.  

“Trust me, baby,” he told him tenderly, “Everything will be just fine.”

Lister lay back and closed his eyes as Rimmer began to kiss and caress his body.  He didn’t need any more foreplay, he was as ready for this as he would ever be.  He felt electrified, his cock steel-hard and every part of him hyper-sensitised with adrenaline and anticipation.  As Rimmer’s mouth moved down and found his erect cock, he felt the silk tighten firmly around his throat.  He immediately gasped, but only half the gasp got through.  He instinctively pulled at his restraints, but they too had tightened and held him fast as Rimmer sucked him in slowly.  He trembled from head to toe, both from pleasure and shock.  Rimmer raised his head, “Try to keep your breathing shallow and regular,” he instructed, “If you gasp or hyperventilate it won’t help.”  He returned to what he was doing and after a moment relaxed his grip and allowed Lister to take a few deep breaths before slowly tightening the noose around his throat again.

Rationally, Lister knew it couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes of this before he was writhing mindlessly underneath Rimmer on the brink of orgasm, but it felt like an hour.  Rimmer released his cock and climbed on top of him, kissing him deeply, pulling the ties tight again as he did so.  “Tell me how you feel,” he whispered between kisses.  

“Like I’m going crazy,” Lister just managed to breathe out.  Rimmer relaxed the ties and kissed his throat.  

“If you weren’t crazy already, darling, you wouldn’t be letting me do this to you.”  He knelt between Lister’s thighs and guided his cock into him.  As he pushed up and in, he pulled the silk tight and closed off his airway completely.  

           Lister’s heart raced.  _Can’t breathe, can’t breathe...oh, oh, that feels good....can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t breathe!!!..._   The pressure on his throat eased and he sucked in a lungful of air, his head spinning.  Rimmer’s body covered him, his weight just barely held off him, and Lister was hit with a sudden crashing sense of vulnerability.  He’d been helpless in this room plenty of times before - stark naked, unable to move and completely at the mercy of this man – but it had never felt like this.  He’d never felt this defenceless.  His throat closed up again and somewhere inside him his subconscious screamed frantically at the lack of control, _Stop!  Stop!  Enough!  No more!_   But another part of him, the part that had stopped him from running the first time Rimmer had shown him this room, the part that had seen something dark and fascinating glittering in Rimmer’s eyes the night he’d taken that pen and signed his name on the dotted line for all this...that part screamed back.  And it screamed for more.

A rush of profound, intense pleasure coursed through him that had nothing to do with the physical stimulation Rimmer was providing.  He wasn’t afraid anymore.  Suddenly he felt enlightened.  All the time they’d been together, he’d given up control to Rimmer, thinking that was enough.  But it wasn’t.  Now, as he lay there, unable to do as much as breathe without permission, he understood that what he’d really needed to give up was ownership.  Of his body, his mind, his heart and his soul.  This was the answer to his question.  This was what it felt like to truly belong to Arnold Rimmer.

He relaxed.  He stopped trying to second guess when Rimmer would pull the noose tight and when he’d let him breathe again and instead allowed himself to flow with it, like a leaf floating on a river current.  He gave himself up to Rimmer’s mouth and hands and increasingly desperate thrusts.  The silk ties holding him fast gradually became tighter and tighter as Rimmer’s excitement increased and he pulled harder, but Lister didn’t care.  When his orgasm finally began to approach he was in such a state of delirium that it almost took him by surprise.  “Oh!” he gasped out, “Gonna... come...!”  He felt Rimmer pull tight on the noose around his throat, cutting off his oxygen, and he let his head fall back, closing his eyes ready to let it take him.  “No!” he felt Rimmer’s hand grip his chin suddenly and looked up at him, dazed.  “Don’t do that.  Don’t close your eyes, baby.  I want to watch you.  I want to look into those big brown eyes and see you come.”  

Lister wanted to respond; he wanted to say ‘Yes, Sir', he wanted to tell Rimmer he’d do anything for him, anything he wanted.  But he had no air to speak or breathe; and then orgasm was on him, spreading over him and through him like a brilliant white light that came in waves over and over again.  And just when he thought it was over, Rimmer came too.  He heard him choke out his name, “Dave...” and for a second, it seemed like he was about to say something else.  But then he felt the sensory explosion of his come inside him, felt the silk bite cruelly into his throat as Rimmer’s hand convulsed and nothing else mattered.  His ears rang and his vision clouded over, but then he sucked in a great lungful of air as the pressure released and - oh _smeg_ \- he was _still_ coming and finally...it was over.

He lay stunned beneath Rimmer, panting softly.  His fingertips felt like they were vibrating.  They were.  He was shaking from head to foot.  Rimmer cupped his face and tilted it up, studying him carefully, “You okay?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered contentedly.

“You scared me for a second.  Your lips were going blue.  You should have let me know you needed to breathe.”

“I’m fine.  Really,” Lister gazed up at him with a dreamy smile, “It’s up to you when I breathe now.”

“Is that so?” Rimmer’s lips found his and kissed him gently.

“I get it now,” Lister whispered, “I understand what you were trying to tell me.  I understand what you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“The contract...”

“What about it?”

“All of it...”

“Dave, you’re not making any sense.”

“I’ll do all of it.  Anything you want.  The hard limits, the soft limits, anything.  I’m yours.  All of me is yours.”

“David, sweetheart,” Rimmer pulled him close and kissed his forehead with a wry smile, “I appreciate the sentiment.  But you’re high as a smegging kite from oxygen deprivation and endorphins right now.”

“I mean it though.  I really mean it,” Lister clung to his hand.  Rimmer looked into his eyes with puzzled bemusement, 

“You do, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“For now, anyway.  We’ll see what the morning brings.”

“It is morning.  It must be nearly dawn.”

“In the real world, perhaps.  Here in Rimmerworld, it’s time for you to sleep.”

“If that’s what you want.”  

            Rimmer smiled and shook his head in amused disbelief, “I like you like this,” he said, picking Lister up and starting to carry him back to his room, “Maybe I should choke you more often.  If I’d known that was the key to getting you to behave, I could have done it weeks ago.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That was a joke.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dave?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Go to sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.”

 

 

Lister awoke a few hours later with an incredible sense of purpose and well-being.  He bounced out of bed, showered and dressed in some clothes he knew Rimmer liked and practically skipped out of his bedroom.  “Good morning, sunshine,” Mrs Jones greeted him as he bounced smiling into the kitchen.  

“Good morning,” he chirped back. 

“Do you want some waffles?” she asked him.

“He’s not supposed to have waffles,” Rimmer complained from behind his computer tablet, “He’s supposed to be eating healthily.”

“I can make healthy waffles,” she replied defensively.

“It’s okay,” Lister said sweetly, taking his place at the counter, “I’ll just have a grapefruit.”  Rimmer put down his tablet and stared at him.  So did Mrs Jones.  

“Are you sure?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yep,” he replied happily.  He saw the two of them share a look and then Rimmer shrugged, 

“Grapefruit it is then.”

            After Mrs Jones had left them alone, Rimmer reached over and took his temperature, “Are you feeling quite alright?”

“I feel fantastic,” Lister replied.  Rimmer eyed him uncertainly,

“Only I’m starting to wonder if I caused you some brain damage last night.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lister stressed, “Really.”

“You know if there’s something you want, you don’t have to go through this whole ‘kid before Christmas’ charade of being good.  You can just ask.”

“The only thing I want is to please you,” Lister told him honestly.  Rimmer absorbed this with a doubtful expression.  

            “Listen,” Lister slid off his stool and stood before him, “Something you said last night really made me think.  When we started this thing you were very honest about what you expected of me and I agreed to it.  But up until now, I haven’t really done what you asked.”

“That’s not true,” Rimmer put his arms around his waist and pulled him close, “You’ve been very good considering how inexperienced you are.  There aren’t many people out there who would have done what you did last night so fearlessly.”

“I’m not talking about the sex though,” Lister said bashfully, “I’m talking about the bigger picture.  I haven’t been a very ‘submissive’ submissive.”  Rimmer smiled indulgently, 

“That shadow of yours is hard to tame,” he admitted.  Lister leaned against him, 

“I want to tame it.  I want _you_ to tame it.  I want to do this properly.”

“David,” Rimmer pulled back to look him in the eyes, “I don’t want to tame you.  I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are.  Yes, it would be nice if you could take this a little more seriously sometimes and argue a little less.  But your spirit is what drew me to you in the first place.  I don’t want you to lose that.  Besides,” he grinned wolfishly, “If you were well-behaved _all_ the time, I’d never have any reason to punish you.  And that would be very boring indeed.”

“You don’t need a reason.  You can punish me whenever you like.”

“Hmmm...You’re right.  Maybe you need to spend a little bit of time in my cage today.  We’ll find out if that shadow can slip between bars.”

            Lister recoiled instinctively, “The cage?  You mean you actually use that thing?”

“Of course.”

“I thought it was just for decoration!”

“Seriously?” Rimmer chuckled, “Even with everything you know about me?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Oh, Dave,” Rimmer sighed, “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

“There’s no need to be patronising.  I just can’t imagine why anyone....” Lister couldn’t think of a way to finish that thought and settled for, “I just can’t imagine _why_.”

“Some people find it arousing,” Rimmer shrugged.

“Okay, well, just for the record, I am _not_ one of those people.  I get claustrophobic.”

“What a shame.  I’ll have to think of something else then.”

“You do that.”

“That’s better.  Now you sound a bit more like your normal self again.”

“I get moody when I’m hungry.  Can I have a waffle now?”  Rimmer gave him a kiss.

“No,” he said sweetly.


	44. Chapter 44

            After the events of that night, Lister noticed Rimmer starting to tighten up on the rules of their arrangement again.  Small misdemeanours that he would have let slide a couple of weeks ago were once again leading to Lister finding himself on all fours in the playroom with a smarting behind.  Everything from his diet, his language and his time-keeping was suddenly back under scrutiny.  Ordinarily, this would have annoyed him but actually he was okay with it.  Things had changed for him that night too.  

            Rimmer was clearly trying to re-establish the boundaries of their relationship and get back some sense of his own identity and the control he felt he’d lost.  Lister, meanwhile, was exploring a new identity.  He’d finally grasped the concept Rimmer had once explained to him about finding liberation through submission and he was embracing it.  He ate what was put in front of him, he wore whatever Rimmer picked out without complaint, when he made mistakes he accepted his punishments without argument and, when he apologised for displeasing Rimmer, he did so sincerely.  That wasn’t to say he didn’t still make mistakes.  His shadow, as Rimmer had christened it, still got away from him now and then; and it usually had something to say for itself.  But he’d found he was actually happy.  Between them they seemed to have reached a healthy equilibrium.

            He was surprised one evening when Rimmer presented him with a slice of homemade cake after dinner.  “Thank you,” he said, and meant it, “What’s the occasion?”

“Mrs Jones made it,” he said awkwardly, “She does one every year.”

“Is it your birthday?”

“No, I don’t celebrate my birthday any more.  There didn’t seem much point.”

“Well, what then?”

“Today is the anniversary of the day I died,” Rimmer said glumly, “I don’t know why she insists on reminding me.  I think it’s her way of telling me there’s at least one person out there who’s sorry I’m dead.”

“Awww...” Lister smiled, “So it’s a deathday cake!”

“Yes, yes.  Very droll.”

“Well, I think it’s a nice idea, man.  Everyone needs something to celebrate.”

“When you get to my age it loses its appeal somewhat.”

“Yeah, ‘cos you’re such an old codger,” Lister teased.

“You’re forgetting that I’m older than I look,” Rimmer replied solemnly, “Holograms don’t age.  At least, not until they’re programmed to.”  Lister swallowed his mouthful of cake, thoughtful suddenly.  This was something that had never occurred to him.  “So...how old are you?”

“I was twenty-seven when I died.  If I hadn’t, I’d be thirty-two this year.”

            Lister dissolved into peals of sudden nervous laughter.  Rimmer glared at him, “What’s so funny?”

“Smegging hell, man!” Lister wiped at his eyes, giggling, “For a moment there I thought you were going to go all _Twilight_ on me and reveal you were a hundred and fifty or something!”

“Do you read anything that’s not trashy romance?” Rimmer scowled.

“I don’t read trashy romance.  I don’t read anything.  I _watch_ trashy romance.”

“Either way,” Rimmer folded his arms, “You won’t find it so funny when you’re the wrong side of thirty, laddie, let me tell you.”

“C’mon,” Lister curled up to his side with a winning smile, “At least you’re not old enough to be my dad.  That would be really creepy.”

“I feel it sometimes,” Rimmer grumbled, “You look about twelve when you smile like that.”

“But I won’t forever.  You can look twenty-seven for as long as you like.  That’s gotta be worth smiling about.”

“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

“I try.”  

Rimmer bent down and kissed his nose.  “I wonder,” he mused throatily, “if you can maintain that optimism in the playroom tonight.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something you may find a little...shocking.” 

“Interesting...”

“It will wipe that cheeky smile right off your face, that’s for sure.”

“I’d say there’s nothing you can do to shock me anymore,” Lister sighed, “But every time I think that, you always prove me wrong.”

 

            In the playroom a few minutes later, Rimmer stripped him down and cuffed his hands above him using one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.  “First of all,” he purred, retrieving a small bottle from the cabinet, “We have to do a little preparation.”  He began to smear a sweetly scented, honey-coloured oil all over Lister’s skin and rub it in.  

“Preperation for what exactly?” he enquired.

“Don’t ask questions,” Rimmer slapped his bottom sharply, “You’ll find out soon enough.  Now then,” he went back to the cabinet, put the oil away and withdrew something else.  Lister looked at it blankly.  It had a white plastic shaft and was topped with a metal sphere about the size of a ping-pong ball.  He guessed it was some sort of vibrator.  

            Rimmer approached him, smiling dangerously.  “Put out your tongue,” he ordered softly.  Lister obeyed and Rimmer gently touched the metal ball to the tip of his tongue.  It was cool and smooth.  And then suddenly...it wasn’t.  Lister jerked his head back and Rimmer chuckled at his reaction.  “Ah!” Lister rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to ease the buzzing sensation.  It felt like the time one of the older kids at the orphanage had told him to test the batteries in his toy car by placing the electrode on his tongue – only worse.  “I warned you it might be shocking,” Rimmer said innocently.  

“That was mean,” Lister said, “You could have warned me.”

“And miss that look on your face?  Not a chance.”  He held up the device in front of Lister, “This is an electric wand.  It’s a battery powered toy for giving low-level electric shocks.  Used properly it can be very...stimulating.”

“Stimulating?”

“Oh, yes.  Some people find that electrical stimulation gives them very intense orgasms.”

“So, the oil, does that stop it from burning?” Lister asked.

“No, this isn’t powerful enough to burn you.  It can only give mild shocks, a bit like a hand buzzer.  The oil is there to conduct the electricity...” he leaned forward and touched the ball gently between Lister’s nipples.  The spark made his whole body shiver and he gasped, “...so you feel it all over.”

            _Okay, here we go,_ Lister’s subconscious grumbled; _last time it was strangulation, this time it’s electrocution.  You sure know how to pick ‘em, kid._   Lister took a deep breath and braced himself.  If Rimmer thought he could do this, then he could do it.  And if Rimmer wanted it, then he’d do it.  “Of course,” Rimmer added, running the ball over Lister’s lower lip and making it tingle and throb, “I can still control the intensity of the shocks this gives.  So if you’re a bad boy I can always turn it _up_.”  Lister jerked his head back again as the voltage suddenly increased sharply and shocked him.  

_\- Not loving this,_ his subconscious piped up, _not loving it at all._

_\- Chill out, chill out.  It’s fine.  He won’t hurt me.  It’ll end up feeling amazing.  It always does.  Patience._

            Gradually, Rimmer began to trail the wand over his body, making his skin tingle and buzz.  Lister tried to keep still but it felt like he had tiny little electric ants crawling over him and he shuddered, “Ooooh, that feels weird!”  Rimmer shocked him and he yelped.  

“Did I say you could speak?”

“No, Sir.  I’m sorry.”

“That’s better.”  Rimmer knelt down and Lister gulped nervously as the wand moved downwards towards his groin.  Rimmer looked up smiling and held his gaze for a moment, then slid the wand down the inside of one thigh and down his leg.  Lister breathed again.

            “Lift up your foot,” Rimmer ordered.

“I thought we agreed that tickling my feet was off limits?”

“We did.  But we didn’t agree anything about using electricity on your feet.  I assure you it will feel quite different.”  Reluctantly, Lister raised one foot, gripping the chains holding him up tightly to keep his balance.  Rimmer ran the wand around the instep of Lister’s foot and he cringed, holding back the urge to kick.  It didn’t tickle – but it didn’t feel nice.  “There now,” Rimmer set his foot back gently on the ground and lifted the other one to repeat the action, “That’s not so bad, is it?”  Lister didn’t reply.

            Rimmer stood up again and kissed him, gently pressing the wand against first one nipple, then the other.  Lister jerked in his chains as the feeling rippled across his oiled skin and left his nipples singing.   

_\- Don’t like this.  Don’t like it, don’t like it!_

_\- Easy tiger.  He’ll get to the good part soon, then it will all be worth it.  Wait and see._

Rimmer moved the wand down and nestled it lightly in Lister’s belly button, then shocked him again.  Lister gritted his teeth.  “How does that feel, baby?” Rimmer purred in his ear.  

“Good,” Lister lied, his jaw clenched, “Fine.”

“How about this?” Rimmer moved behind him and trailed the wand down his spine, sparking it at the end.  Lister convulsed.  _Ah, shit!_   He held back the swear but couldn’t hold back the hiss of pain.  Rimmer kissed the back of his neck, “Oh you like that, huh?  How about this?”  Lister finally felt Rimmer enter him and tried not to sigh with relief.  Maybe they were done with the horrible smegging thing now.  _Ow!_

He mewed indignantly as another shock made him twitch.  Rimmer squeezed him tight, “Mmm...I felt that one too.  Let’s try that again.”  Lister bit down on his lip.  Okay, clearly Rimmer was enjoying this far more than he was.  Now was the time to see if he could genuinely be a good sub and take a little pain to please his master.  After all, it wasn’t that bad.  He could deal with this for a few minutes.  Couldn’t he?

_OW!_ Maybe not.

“Rimmer,” he whispered, “I don’t like it.”

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Rimmer murmured, nuzzling his shoulder.

“It _hurts_.”

“It’s supposed to hurt, baby.  That’s what makes it fun.”  

He touched the wand to the end of Lister’s cock and he only had time to gasp out, “Don’t...” before Rimmer shocked him.  He cried out.  It wasn’t a hard shock, but it was enough to make everything from Lister’s waist downwards sizzle unpleasantly.  “Rimmer, please!”

“Oh, you want more?”

“No!  Rimmer, listen to me.  I’ve had enough.”

“Oh, I think you can take a little more.”  He shocked him again and Lister groaned,

“Please, it hurts!  I can’t do this!”

“But you’re doing so well.  And you’re making your master very, very happy...”  He placed the wand under Lister’s balls and shocked him again, harder this time.  Lister gave a small scream and his eyes teared up with pain.  _Okay_.  _Fuck_ _this_.

“Rimmer, stop!” he insisted angrily, “You are _hurting_ me!  Please, please, stop!” 

“Well, what do you know?” Rimmer ran his tongue up the side of Lister’s neck and kissed his ear, “I knew one day I could make you beg.  Now do it again.”  The wand sent another flash of pain through Lister and he screamed, loudly this time.

 

_“STOPITLETMEGO!!!!!!!!!”_

 

            He felt Rimmer pause and then heard him drop the wand and he sobbed with relief.  He was shaking and sore all over.  “Let me go!” he demanded again, trying not to cry.  “Let me go right now!  I mean it!”  Rimmer reached up and unhooked him and the moment the cuffs were off his wrists, Lister bolted for the door.  

“Dave, wait!”

“Fuck you!” he shouted, “Go to hell!  I am done with this shit!  You hear me?  I am _done!_ ”  He threw the door open so hard that it banged off the wall and fled to his room.

                                                                                                        


	45. Chapter 45

            Lister slammed the door of his room and flung himself down on the bed, seething.  His skin was still smarting and tingling unpleasantly where Rimmer had used the shocker on him, but his soul felt more damaged than his body.  He’d just been starting to think he understood all this, was just beginning to really trust in it and give his all and now, for the first time since he’d set out on this journey, he felt like he’d been abused.  He’d had absolute faith that Rimmer knew his limits and would respect them, but what had just happened in there had shattered all of that.  He felt violated and betrayed.

            There was a cautious knock at the door, “Dave?”

“Go away,” he growled.  Rimmer ignored him and came in anyway.  “I _said_ , go away,” Lister snarled, more emphatically.

“Don’t you think we should talk about what just happened?” Rimmer asked, all too reasonably.  

“I don’t want to talk to you about anything right now,” Lister snapped, “I just want to be left alone.”

“Look, I can see you’re upset...”

“ _Upset?_ ” Lister fumed, “What is the _matter_ with you?What part of ‘please stop, you’re hurting me’, is so hard to understand, you sadistic fuck?”

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Rimmer stressed, a look of consternation on his face, “I didn’t think you were serious.”  

Lister threw up his hands in frustration, “I don’t think I could have made it much clearer!  Did I sound like I was having a laugh?”

“I would never hurt you on purpose,” Rimmer said, wounded, “Surely you know me better than that by now.”

“I thought I did.  I’m not so sure anymore.  You certainly sounded like you were enjoying hurting me; and you sure as smeg didn’t want to stop.”

“That is utter nonsense!”

“So why didn’t you listen to me?”

“Because begging for mercy is what subs are supposed to do.  It’s part of the role, part of the fantasy.  And recently...you’ve been so good.  You’ve really started to engage with this, to give yourself over.  I thought you were playing the game, that’s all.”

            Lister rounded on him furiously, “Listen, I am not one of your fucked-up friends you found through a kinky website!  I don’t get a kick out of pretending that I’m a bad naughty boy, or that you kidnapped me!  This is _your_ fantasy, not mine!  The only reason I’m doing any of this messed-up shit is because I love you – and if I tell you to stop, it’s because I want you to STOP!”  He grabbed a pillow off the bed and flung it at Rimmer’s head to emphasise the point.  Rimmer flicked calmly to soft-light and the pillow sailed through him harmlessly, not improving Lister’s mood.

“Well, then why didn’t you use the safe word?” he countered.  Lister’s temper stalled and threw him off course.  “Oh,” he said more quietly, “I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?” Rimmer repeated, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry!” Lister bristled, “But I was scared and in pain.  My head was all over the place!”

“Listen, Dave,” Rimmer said sternly, “This kind of partnership is all about trust.  I ask for a great deal of it from you, I know, but it works both ways.  I have to know that you’ll play by the rules as well; and that means letting me know when I’m going too far.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to think clearly when you’re tasering my balls?” Lister snapped.

“It shouldn’t have gone that far.  You should have called a halt as soon as you knew the shocks were uncomfortable.”

“I was trying to be strong for you,” Lister protested, “I wanted to make you happy, that’s all.”

“And look how it ended up.  You have to be honest.  Causing you pain – _real_ pain – is never going to make me happy.”

            Lister fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling feeling foolish and ashamed.  “I’m sorry,” he said grudgingly.

“No,” Rimmer sighed deeply, “ _I’m_ sorry.”  He walked over and took Lister’s hands, pulling him back up to a sitting position and taking a seat beside him.  “It’s my fault too.  I forget sometimes how inexperienced you are.  I should have prompted you.”  He put his arm around Lister and held him, gently stroking his side, “You’ll learn in time.  Eventually it will become second nature, you’ll see.”  

Lister stared across the room and saw the two of them reflected in the dresser mirror.  Naked in one another’s arms, on the bed that he always slept in alone.  The image was so beautiful, so tender...and so misleading.  Maybe it was seeing that picture and knowing that it would never be the truth (or at least the whole truth) or maybe it was the residual shock from what he’d just endured, but a part of Lister suddenly dug its heels in and would go no further.  Rimmer’s words of reassurance chimed in his head like warning bells.  This wasn’t right.  Remembering to use safe words when he was in pain was not something that should have to become second nature.  And he didn’t want it to.  He did not want to live his life that way.  With that epiphany, something inside him - some barrier he’d erected without ever realising it to shield himself from the stark reality of what this relationship truly was - began to crumble.  

 

“No,” he whispered.

 

            Rimmer looked at him in surprise, “No what?” he asked.  Lister turned to him,

“Here’s a crazy idea,” he said weakly, “Why don’t we just...leave the bondage stuff alone for a while?  Forget the rules and the contract and the ‘yes sir, no sir’ and all the craziness and just try being you and me.”

“But this is me,” Rimmer told him blankly.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” Lister said.  His voice was shaking, “Maybe we could try just being together in a way that means I don’t have to worry about what’s going to happen every time we get naked.”

“That’s why we have the safe words.  So I know when you’re worried and I can guide you...”

“I don’t want to have to think about safe words when we’re together!” Lister interrupted him desperately, “I want to lose myself in you, not worry about rules and limits and all the rest of that crap!”

“But this is how I lose myself in you,” Rimmer stroked his hand, “This is what brings us together more intensely than anything else could.”

“No,” Lister shook his head, “No, it doesn’t.  It’s what keeps us apart.  I need more than this, man.”

“I can give you more!  Dave, there are so many things I haven’t even begun to show you, things you can’t even imagine yet...”

“That’s not what I mean!” Lister pulled his hand back, “And that’s the real problem.  We both want more, man, but of different things.”  He took a deep breath, “And...I can’t see a way that’s ever going to change.”

“Dave,” Rimmer asked cautiously, “What are you saying?”

            Lister turned away from him to stare out of the window.  He gazed down at the brilliant sprawl of Jupiter, the lights gleaming in the darkness.  It looked unreal, like some ethereal dreamscape he might have imagined in the deepest of sleep.  His voice, when he spoke, sounded like part of that dream – far away and not part of this reality.  “I’m saying,” he said slowly, “I think this is it.  I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“You don’t mean that,” Rimmer said after a pause.  Lister gazed steadily out of the window.  He couldn’t look at Rimmer, not at this moment.  If he did, then his heart would race and his pulse would flutter and he’d take back what he’d just said.  And he couldn’t do that.  He had to make this leap now, while he still had the strength of will to do it.  “I’m sorry,” he said, staring fixedly at a single point of light in the distance, “I want out of the contract.  I’m terminating our arrangement.”

“Look,” Rimmer said nervously, “You’ve had a scare tonight.  It’s frightened you.  I understand that, believe me, I really do.  And maybe I’ve been driving you too hard – pushing you further than you’re ready to go.  We’ll take things down a notch, let you get your confidence back.  We’ll get through this, you just have to trust me.”

Lister stood up, gently but firmly pulling free of Rimmer’s arms.  “That’s not what this is, man.  This isn’t about me freaking out over what happened just now.  Because I _do_ trust you.  But all the trust and all the training in the world isn’t going to make me into the person you want me to be.  I can see that now.  This is just never going to work.”

“There’s still three weeks of our contract left.  Why don’t you wait, see how it goes and we can re-negotiate once you’ve had time to think...”

“Because the way I feel isn’t going to change in three weeks.  It will just get stronger.  And it will make it even harder to say goodbye.”

“So don’t,” Rimmer stood up and grabbed his shoulders, spinning him around and forcing him to finally look at him, “Don’t give up on this!  Not after we’ve come so far together!”

            Lister closed his eyes.  He wanted so badly to crumple; to give in, fold against Rimmer’s strong chest and agree to anything and everything so long as it meant he never had to let go.  The word ‘okay’ hovered at the back of his throat, stuck like a hairball and he _wanted_ to say it.  But the part of him that was strong and had kept him going when he’d lost his father, then his mother, then his gran, would not allow it.  The small piece of steel somewhere in his heart, that had given him the power to leave Earth and everything he’d ever known behind to become someone better, held fast.  Because if he said ‘okay’ and gave in to everything his body and soul wanted, he might as well go to the top of this tower and leap.  He couldn’t live this way and trying to do so would destroy him.  He had to leave now, while that strong part of him still remained and he had a chance.  If he waited any longer – even three little weeks – that tiny piece of steel would melt in the furnace of Arnold Rimmer’s all-encompassing aura; and when this whole thing finally went down in flames, it would take him with it.  He would not survive the pain.  “I’d like to get dressed now,” he said flatly, without opening his eyes.  

“Dave...”

“Please,” he said firmly and turned his back on him.

            He heard Rimmer take a deep breath behind him.  “Okay.  That’s fine.  Get yourself dressed.  Take a few minutes to gather your thoughts.  I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”

“Thank you,” Lister said quietly.  He didn’t turn around until he heard the bedroom door click shut.  _Keep moving.  Put your clothes on.  Don’t think about anything except leaving this apartment, or you won’t be able to do it._   He went to the wardrobe and stared at the neatly pressed clothes hanging in wait.  He reached in and pulled out his old biker leathers, the ones he’d been wearing when he and Rimmer first met, and his faded old black shirt.  They were the only things in this collection that truly belonged to him.  When he was dressed, he scooped up his phone and stuffed it into his pocket and left the room without looking back.

            Rimmer was sitting on the sofa in his dressing gown.  When he saw Lister enter, and saw what he was wearing, he stood up.  “You don’t have to leave,” he said desperately.  

“Yes,” Lister replied quietly, “I do.”

“Listen to me.  We can work through this.  If you want to dial back a bit on the S&M stuff for a while, that’s fine.  We’ll go back to basics, take things slow.”

“For what?” Lister asked him, “For what purpose?  To get back to where we are now?  This isn’t what I want.”

“Haven’t you enjoyed the last few months?”

“Of course I have...”

“Haven’t you enjoyed the things we’ve done together?  The things I’ve taught you?”

“Yes...”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Lister told him, “Is that I don’t want my life to be a role-playing game.  I want something real.  You can’t give me that.  And I can’t keep playing the part you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to be anything that you’re not,” Rimmer protested.

“So let me go,” Lister told him, “Because this life I’ve been leading with you, amazing and incredible though it’s been, is _not_ who I am.”  

            He looked at Rimmer’s stricken expression and his hands clenched involuntarily into fists as he fought the urge to run to him.  “You don’t know,” he said, trying to force his voice to remain calm, “How much you mean to me.  How much _all_ of this has meant to me.  You have changed my life in so many ways.  I owe you so much.  And even now, my brain is going round and round, giving me a million reasons why I shouldn’t leave this place – tonight or ever.  Because I don’t want to.  I want to be with you.  You have no idea how much I want that...” his voice began to shake and he put his hands over his face, trying to calm himself.  Rimmer bounded to him, “So don’t go.  Dave, don’t do this to either of us.  I still want you more than I have ever wanted anyone in this galaxy.  When I look at you I see so much possibility, I think of what this relationship could become if only...”

“If only what?” Lister stared up at him.  _Say it.  Say the words.  Give me the reason I need to stay._  Rimmer looked back at him hopelessly,

“If only you’d truly _give_ yourself to me,” he whispered.  Lister closed his eyes, defeated.

            “I’m going to leave now,” he said softly, his voice empty.  “I’ll take the Ducati to get home.  If you want it back after that, I understand.”

“No.  Dave, no.  Please don’t do this.”

“If I’ve forgotten anything then just leave it for me in my office.”

“What about all your clothes and everything?  You can’t take it all with you on the bike.”

“These are my clothes,” Lister replied, “All that stuff in the other room – it all belongs to someone else.  Someone who never really existed.  It’s not mine.  It never was.”

            He started to walk towards the door but Rimmer blocked his way.  “Stop.  Dave, you can’t do this.” He grabbed his wrists, “You can’t walk away. This is crazy.  I know you want me as much as I want you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Lister told him, “I want you more.  That’s why I can’t keep doing this.”

“Listen to me, you’re making a huge mistake.  I won’t let you do this.  I won’t let you throw away what we have!”  He grasped Lister’s face roughly in his hands, his eyes wild.

Lister stood up on tiptoe and leaned his forehead against Rimmer’s.  He breathed his smell, felt the unique sensation of his perfect hard-light form against him and fought back a scream of anguish.  “Do you remember,” he whispered softly, “The night you found me in that bar on Saturn when all this began?  When I was so drunk?”

“Of course I do,” Rimmer whispered back.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” Lister asked, “You knelt down and took my face in your hands just like this; and you told me the thing that frightened you most about all of this – about you and me – was the thought that when you were done with me the look you could see in my eyes would be gone forever.  And that is what’s going to happen, man.  Trying to be with you like this, I can feel a part of me dying.  It’s slipping away day by day.  That’s why I have to do this now, before it’s too late.  That’s why you have to let me go.” 

“I could make you stay,” Rimmer said stubbornly, “I could drag you to the playroom, lock you in that cage you’re so afraid of and keep you here.”

Lister had to laugh, even in the depths of his pain.  The idea was so close to what he’d imagined himself one time, back when all this was beginning and not ending.  “I know you could,” he said, “And I know you won’t.  Because despite what you believe about yourself, you’re not a bad man.  Besides, Mrs Jones wouldn’t approve.”

“Please,” Rimmer gripped him, his voice breaking, “Please don’t go.”

“I’m sorry,” Lister whispered.  He pulled away and fixed his gaze on the door.  He couldn’t look anywhere else or he’d be done for.  “You will never know how sorry.  Goodbye, Arnold.”

            He walked to the lift door, pressed the button and was grateful when the doors opened immediately.  He stepped inside and faced the wall as he pushed the button for the car park.  If he turned around, if he looked at the apartment and the world he was leaving behind – or the man who was the centre of that world - he was sure he would die.

            As the lift made its slow descent downwards, Lister tried to focus on breathing in and out.  He couldn’t think about the implications of what he was doing or anything except getting home.  He kept waiting to cry, but he was too numb for tears.  The scream he’d held back minutes ago was still there, pulsing in his chest and making it ache.  Or maybe that was just his heart breaking.

When the lift doors finally opened, he stumbled out into the gloomy depths of the car park and drifted like a ghost towards his bike.  He remembered the first time he’d seen it sitting outside his dorm all those weeks ago, gleaming in the sun.  He felt the shock again of how beautiful it was...and the incredible sense of awe that there was someone in the universe, someone in _his_ life, who could present him with a gift like this.  This bike was the ultimate symbol of their brief relationship.  Lister’s love of bikes was the first thing Rimmer had latched onto when they’d met.  The Ducati, and the manner in which he’d been presented with it, represented everything about the impact Rimmer had had on his life.  In a very real way, it was the reason they had ended up together.  If Lister had just accepted the gift instead of getting drunk and starting a fight about it, Rimmer would have never shown up that night.  They would have drifted off into their own separate lives, always wondering what might have been.   

Maybe he would have gone home with Sam Murray that night instead of fighting him off...and not discovered what a jerk he was until it was too late.  Maybe he’d have finally got round to going on a date with Kristine Kochanski.  Maybe he and Petrovitch would be on their couch on Saturn with Petersen right now, drinking beer and nervously discussing their end of term results.  Maybe, wherever he was, he would be happy right now.  Maybe he wouldn’t feel like he was dying.   

 

            He drove back to his apartment in a daze, his mind adrift in a fog of misery.  He parked up and dragged himself up to his flat.  There was no sense of relief when he closed the door behind him.  This place didn’t feel like home to him.  It never had.  It was an extension of the world Rimmer had built for him.  The few tatty items that were his own stood out like tiny islands amongst the sleek fashionable furnishings that Rimmer had picked out.

            He sloped into his bedroom, tugged off his clothes without turning the lights on and threw them into a corner.  When he retrieved his phone from his pocket, he saw there was a text message from Rimmer.  He braced himself and opened it, expecting pleas or abuse.  One or the other.  The message simply read:

_\- Did you say you love me?_

            He closed his eyes and the ache in his chest intensified.  No more.  He couldn’t feel any more pain tonight, surely.  _\- Yes._   He typed back.  _\- But it doesn’t matter now._

He waited.  He waited for a message to ping back saying _Of course it matters!  I love you too!  Come back.  I’ll change.  We can be together the way you want .  We can live happily ever after._   But no message came.

After a long time, Lister stopped staring at the blank screen of the phone and looked up.  Out in the darkness, a light shone in a window on the top floor of the Rimmer building.  He gazed at it and the pain in his chest finally swelled and became unbearable.  He picked up his panda bear and threw it violently across the room, then flung himself down on his bed.  And screamed.

 


	46. Chapter 46

            Lister lay awake in the murky blue light of dawn.  He hadn’t slept all night.  He was still in shock at what he’d done, at how suddenly this had all ended.  Just hours ago he’d been so happy and secure, feeling like things between he and Rimmer had finally stabilised.  Now it was over.  Deep inside him, something was weeping pitifully, but so far he’d cried no actual tears.  It didn’t seem real enough yet.  He tried to force himself to accept the facts; that he had lost the man he loved, that he would never touch that firm marble skin again or feel those defiant curls twirling through his fingers, or experience the unique and blissful sensation of Rimmer’s come pulsing through him.  His brain would not accept it.

            He was waiting for the grief to hit him, and he had no doubt that eventually it would, but oddly enough, he felt no doubt.  There was no question in his mind about whether or not he’d done the right thing.  There were plenty of questions as to whether he could have lived with doing the wrong thing, if only for a little while longer.  The real problem was that living with the decision he’d made, even if it was the right one, wasn’t going to be much easier than living with the wrong one.  At this moment in time he wasn’t even sure what was worse; the idea that he might never see Arnold Rimmer again, or the fact that his new career meant there was a strong likelihood that he would have to.  How could he ever look on him again without bursting into either tears of distress or flames of desire?  How could he remain professional with someone who had done such insanely intimate things with his body?  How could he meet his eyes, knowing what those eyes had seen; or shake his hand, knowing what those hands could do?  _Too late to worry about that now_ , Petersen’s voice chipped in sternly in his head. _Should have thought about that before you signed the contract.  Both of them.  You made the decision to push the button and trigger that bomb, kid.  Now you gotta survive the fallout._

Fortunately, he had no work the next day, so the lack of sleep didn’t matter too much.  He shut himself in his flat and pottered about in his underpants and a t-shirt, playing mindless games on his ancient console and trying not to think about anything.  When he checked his phone at regular intervals, he pretended to himself that he was waiting for messages from his friends.  He looked in his empty fridge and sparse cupboards.  He found beer and condiments but no food.  He considered going shopping, then phoned for a huge takeaway curry order.  Finally at around nine pm, he crashed out from a mixture of alcohol, emotional exhaustion, game-fuelled brain mush, sleep deprivation and overeating.

            He woke up on his sofa at four in the morning feeling like shit and gave himself a mental slap.  If he succumbed to this depression now he’d end up wasting everything he had worked for.  _Enough moping_.  _You’re better than this.  Do something constructive._   He hauled himself into the shower, scrubbed himself down meticulously, shaved, dressed and went to work.  It might still be ridiculously early but he knew the code for his workrooms and he wasn’t going to go back to sleep anyway.

            As he zipped through the dark empty streets towards the Rimmer building, he felt the first sharp sense of loss.  From now on this tower was just his workplace, not his home from home.  He wouldn’t finish his day at the office and slip up into the penthouse and Rimmer’s waiting arms.  He’d get on his bike and join in the rush hour traffic back to his soul-less apartment.  No luxurious soak in his walk-in ensuite followed by a delicious dinner cooked by Mrs Jones.  He’d be in and out the shower and shoving plastic trays in the microwave.  No long nights of exhausting but satisfying sex and then tiptoeing back down to work the next morning pretending he’d been home.  It would be lonely nights in front of the TV and then early alarms and morning queues.  This was going to take some getting used to.

            He worked alone under the harsh artificial glare of the lights for a few hours until his colleagues began to trickle in with the growing daylight.  He tried not to think on the fact that Rimmer could be so close, he tried not to wonder what he was doing at each moment.  Was he still in the building or had he taken the Jet and left for somewhere else?  Was he sitting upstairs at his horrible organ or watching the sun rise in his floating glass control room on Saturn?  Was he, wherever he was, as unhappy as Lister?

If his colleagues noticed that he was there before everyone else, nobody commented on it, or on his drawn countenance.  Until lunchtime, that was.  “David!” Petrovitch bellowed, sitting down opposite him as he sat picking half-heartedly at a sandwich, “Are you unwell?”  Lister managed a weak smile.

“I’m okay, man.”

“You look very tired.”

“I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

“What is the matter?  Why are you not sleeping?”

“Aleks,” he lowered his voice, hoping Petrovitch might take the hint and follow suit, “Me and Rimmer...we’ve....we’ve kind of split up.”  

            No matter how much he’d been over this in his head since he’d walked out of Rimmer’s apartment, saying the words aloud made it more real somehow.  He pushed his sandwich away and took a gulp of his drink, trying to wash away the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.  Petrovitch, blessedly, understood.  “Oh no,” he said quietly, “Dave, I am sorry.  What happened?  Did you have a fight?”

“No.  Well...sort of.  But the fight wasn’t the problem.  It just kind of hit me suddenly how different we are and there was no way around it, no way forward.  And once I saw it...I couldn’t go on.   It was never going to work.”

“How did he take it?” Petrovitch asked anxiously.

“I’m not sure,” Lister replied honestly, “I think he was upset but...” he shrugged, “He’s Arnold Rimmer, isn’t he?  He’ll move on quick enough.  It’s not like he’ll have trouble replacing me.”  He tried to hold the bitterness in his voice in check, but it still seeped through.  He drank some more soda to try and dilute it.  

“Nobody could ever replace you,” Petrovitch told him loyally.

“Oh, they will,” Lister smiled ruefully, “I’m very sure of that.  Because he never loved me.  He liked me, maybe even cared about me, but he didn’t love me.  I think he’ll fill my vacancy very easily.”

“Finding a partner isn’t like advertising a job although, from what I’ve observed of your relationship with the man, it certainly seemed like hard work.”

“Believe me, man,” Lister tapped at his empty drinks can, “For him, I think it might be very much like advertising for a job.”

“Is he really that unemotional?”

“He has emotions,” Lister allowed, “But he also has a lot of demands.  And frankly, I’m not sure that he’s capable of love.  At least, not the type that I need.  He’s been through a lot in his life and it’s damaged him.  Maybe he will find someone one day who can give him what he needs.  But that person ain’t me.”

“You still care for him a lot though.  Don’t you?” Petrovitch challenged gently.

“Yes,” Lister admitted, “A big lot.  But not enough to spend the rest of my life trying to push a rock up a hill.”

            “Well,” Petrovitch sat back, “It is a big decision to walk away from a man like that.  I know this cannot have been easy for you for many reasons; and I can see in your face that you are still sad.  But I tell the truth when I say that part of me is relieved.  If all you say is true then I believe you are better to leave him.”  He gave Lister an encouraging smile, “And now you will be free to come out with me and the boys and paint Jupiter red, so that is all to the good!”

“Jupiter is already red,” Lister smiled weakly.

“Then we will make it more so.”

“Okay.  But not just yet, hey?” Lister replied softly, “Gimme some time.”

“Lick your wounds, my friend.  They will heal.  And when they do, this town won’t know what’s hit it.”  Petrovitch raised a fist and Lister bumped it gratefully.

            At the end of the day, Lister didn’t want to go home.  While he was working he could clear his mind of everything else, all that mattered was the problem in front of him and how to solve it.  Once he put down his tools, he would have to think about the fact that when he got in that lift, he would be going down and not up.  This in itself was enough of a divergence from his normal routine to bring home once more the enormity of what he’d done.  Since the first day he’d started working here there had been less than a handful of times he’d pushed the button for the car park after work.  But his early start had left him drowsy and too tired to concentrate any longer once the clock hit five.  He filed out with everyone else.

            Outside the lift, he hesitated.  He could make an excuse, say he’d forgotten something and nip back to the office.  He could wait for the next empty elevator and do what he always did - key in the code for the penthouse.  He could step out into that beautiful world above the city and wait for Rimmer to come home.  He could see the look of shock on his face when he stepped out of the lift and found him there.  He could go to him, hold him and whisper ‘Let’s talk about this’.  He could tell him how much he missed him already.  Maybe there was still a chance...

            The lift doors pinged open and everyone crammed in.  He hung back, torn.  “Dave?” one of the guys held the door, “You coming?”  Lister’s whole world spun in the fraction of a second it took him to answer.  _Yes or no.  Yes or no._

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, “I’m coming.”  He stepped in and the doors closed behind him.  “I thought for a second I’d forgotten something.”  The lift sank along with his heart.

            He was already most of the way home when he remembered his empty refrigerator and by then he was too tired to turn around and go shopping.  When he finally got in, he dumped some Krispies into a bowl, poured beer over them and called it dinner.  He allowed himself a moment of churlish pleasure at the thought of how horrified Rimmer would be to see him eating something like this.  But of course, Rimmer would never know.  And probably no longer cared.  He kept himself awake for as long as possible watching hour after hour of bad TV before finally giving in and going to bed.  He fell asleep almost immediately and dreamed of a different bed, in a different place, where Krispies were served with champagne instead of beer.

 

            

 


	47. Chapter 47

            Over the next few days, Lister spent every waking moment at work.  The complex and challenging nature of the Wildfire project was the only thing that could occupy his mind fully enough to keep thoughts of Rimmer at bay.  TV was no good and nor were video games, they left too many gaps in his headspace for the man to creep in and start calling to him.  His kitchen remained empty, he took all his meals at work and left himself no time to shop.  There was always somewhere open in the Rimmer building to find food.  Eventually, Karl Walker had ventured into his workspace for a chat.  “How’re you settling in, Spanners?” he asked, leaning against the bench with his big arms folded.  

“Good, yeah,” Lister replied with the buzzing enthusiasm of three coffees inside him.  

“You like it here?” Walker probed.

“I love it,” Lister said truthfully, “I never thought I’d ever have the opportunity to work on something like this.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Walker nodded, with an appraising glance, “But you know you need a life outside this place as well, don’t you, kid?”

“Huh?” Lister blinked.

“I’ve seen this before with newbies like you.  It’s your first big project, you get all fired up and you end up burning yourself out.  You need to take a few breaks, get out of this damn tower once in a while, you hear what I’m saying?”

“Oh,” Lister said meekly.  He thought his constant presence here had gone more or less unnoticed, but obviously not.  

“Hell, I’m not reprimanding you, son.  You’re doing good work and I’m glad that you enjoy it enough to be here all hours.  I’m just looking out for you, that’s all.”

“The thing is,” Lister said awkwardly, “I _do_ love it here and I _am_ excited about the project, but that’s not the only reason I spend so much time here.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve actually just split up with someone.  Right now being here is the only thing...” _That makes me feel close to him..._ “That takes my mind off it,” he finished.

“Sorry to hear that,” Walker straightened up and slapped him encouragingly on the back, “You do what you gotta do to get your head straight, Spanners.  Just take care of yourself, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Yes, Sir.”

            That night, Lister forced himself to finish up and leave with his colleagues at the normal time.  He didn’t want anyone’s pity and he certainly didn’t want anyone to start asking questions about his relationship breakdown.  Besides, his conversation with Walker had made him realise that he wasn’t getting on with things as well as he was pretending.  He was clinging to this tower like a comfort blanket because of all it represented.  He needed to start getting some distance from the place, from the man who owned it and from the memories it held.

            When he got back to his apartment, he saw a large box waiting outside his door.  He tensed automatically.  He wasn’t expecting a package and could think of only one person who would send him anything.  Sure enough, he recognised the writing on the address label.  Was this a gift, a bribe to try and win him back?  He dragged it inside and pulled it open with trembling hands.

            Inside, pressed and folded neatly, were all the clothes Rimmer had bought for him.  Resting on top was a handwritten note on expensive paper with the Rimmer logo at the top.

            _Dear Dave_ , he read, _I know you would never accept these things if I approached you directly.  I also know that there is nothing I can do to stop you from donating or selling them if you decide to be your usual stubborn, proud self. All I can say to try and convince you to keep them is that they are too small to be of any use to me, and as the suits were handmade for you they are unlikely to be of use to anyone else either.  Last of all, it may not mean anything to you, but I bought them for you and I would like you to have them.  The same goes for the bike and anything else I ever gave you.  It is all yours and I only wish you would have allowed me to spoil you as much as you truly deserve.  It saddens me more than you will ever know that our brief time together had to end this way but I accept (only grudgingly) that I must respect your decision and let you be free if that is truly what you want.  I am not sure you will ever realise just how incredible and unique you are, but I will never forget you and I wish you, now and always, nothing but the best._

  _Yours truly,_

_Arnold_ _J Rimmer, BSC, SSC_

Lister wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the floor, reading and re-reading the note.  He could smell Rimmer’s scent infused in the paper, hear his voice echoed in the loops of handwriting.  He could feel him as though he were standing right here beside him, but something felt off-key.  _If this is truly what you want._ But it wasn’t what Lister wanted.  Right now he wanted to tear his hair out, pound his fists on the floor until they bled, leap from the huge window in front of him and just end this pain.  But most of all he wanted to crawl into Rimmer’s arms and stay there forever.  Maybe it didn’t matter that Rimmer didn’t love him.  Maybe he could live with being a sub for the rest of his life.  He could learn to use safe words, learn to do as he was told, learn to live for the pleasure he gave to another.  _You could_ , his subconscious whispered, _You could probably learn to do all of those things.  But none of it will stop him from leaving you. One day he’ll get bored, like he always does, and find another plaything.  You won’t have him - and you’ll have nothing left of yourself either.  You knew it when you walked out that night and you know it now, however much it hurts.  Save yourself, man.  While you still have a chance._

He squeezed his head between his hands, wanting to stifle the hideous voice of reason, wanting to stop thinking altogether, and stared at the box.  He didn’t know what to do with these clothes any more than he knew how to silence the voice in his head, telling him all the things that he knew to be true and didn’t want to hear.

            Lister forced himself to stand.  He needed to get out of the apartment.  He needed to rejoin the real world and start living his life again.  Once he’d regained his sense of normality and perspective he would know what to do with the box.  And normal people had food in their refrigerators.  It was time to get out and do some shopping.

            Despite his initial sense of purpose when he left the apartment, he soon found himself wandering around the supermarket aisles in a daze.  The idea of attempting anything as complicated as cooking in this frame of mind was exhausting.  His mind was full of the box sitting on his floor and the crumpled note beside it.  He threw a selection of microwave meals in the basket and hovered at the corner of the booze aisle.  This would be Petersen’s solution, if he were here.  _Just get blind drunk.  When you come round, the box will be gone and you won’t remember what you did with it.  Problem solved._   He was seriously debating this approach when a voice behind him jolted him back to himself.  “David?”

            He turned around and came face to face with Mrs Jones, in her familiar long coat.  He was rattled.  When he’d ventured out into the real world, he hadn’t expected this.  Mrs Jones belonged to Rimmerworld and the fantasyland of the penthouse suite.  The idea that she existed here too – and did something as mundane as getting the shopping – seemed weird and bizarre.  She said nothing, just put down her basket and held out her arms.  It suddenly seemed to Lister, that this was exactly the solution he’d been looking for.  He put down his own basket and went gratefully into her hug.  “Oh, my dear,” she said, patting his back soothingly, “I am glad to see you.  How are you?”  She held him back at arms length and regarded him critically.

“I’m ok,” he said glumly.  She narrowed her eyes sceptically and cast a disapproving glance at his shopping basket.  

“You look tired,” she said frankly.

“I’ve been working hard.”

“I’m sure you have.  And eating junk.”

“Aw, give a guy a break.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not my place to interfere but I’d hate to think you weren’t taking proper care of yourself.”

“I will do.  Promise.”

“I know this is hard,” she touched his arm tenderly, “But you ought to know he’s taking it badly too.”

“Really?”

“He misses you very much.  So do I, for that matter.  You brightened the place up.”

“I wish,” Lister told her with difficulty, “It didn’t have to be this way.”

“Now don’t get me wrong,” she told him, “I’m not saying you should go back.  I understand how hard it must be to live...that way.  It’s a lot to ask of someone, especially someone as young as you.  It’s a lifestyle; and it’s either for you or it’s not.  And there’s nothing you can do about it whichever way.”

“No,” Lister agreed sadly.

“But all the same,” she sighed, “I had such high hopes for the two of you.”

“You and me both,” Lister admitted, swallowing hard, “Sometimes things just...aren’t meant to be.”

“But it was all so _different_ with you,” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed unhappily at her eyes.  “Watching movies together, days out at the zoo.  There was none of that with any of the others.  It was always so business-like, always ‘yes sir, no sir’ and all that nonsense.  There was never any let up, no time out.  With you he was like a different person.  I thought maybe he was finally learning to let all of that go.  Learning to let his guard down and see that there was another way.”  

She tucked the tissue away and sniffed primly, “Well, there’s no point dwelling on what might have been.”

“No,” Lister agreed.  He was still reeling from her words.

“Maybe one day he’ll get there, in his own time.  And you’re a lovely boy, you’ll find someone, I have no doubt.”

“Yeah,” he said emptily.  She stood up on tiptoe and pecked his cheek.

“I’m glad I saw you.  Look after yourself, remember you promised me you would.”

“I will.”

“That means putting some fruit and veg in that basket.”

“I will.”

“And I’m a monkey’s uncle.  Maybe I’ll see you again some time.”

“Maybe.”  

            As she walked away, Lister called after her suddenly, “Mrs Jones?”

“Yes, love?”

“Are you going to tell him you saw me?”  He saw her lips twist anxiously as she pondered this.  

“No,” she said finally, “Not yet.  But when I do, I’ll tell him you looked well.”

“Thank you.”

“It’d make me a liar, but I know it’s what you’d want me to say.  And I know it will be what he needs to hear.”

            Lister collected his last bits of shopping with a lump as big and sour as a grapefruit lodged in his throat.  He put a bag of apples in his basket, because he had promised, and made his way through the checkout on autopilot.  Back home, he dumped the bags on the counter without putting the things away and stared at the plain cardboard box full of his old dreams.  He picked up the note, smoothed it out, then went through to his room, sank down on the edge of the bed and read it through again.  

He hadn’t wept so far, but now the tears started to flow.  He really had been kidding himself all along.  He realised that now.  Mrs Jones and her high hopes had revealed to him just how foolish he’d been.  All this time, he’d thought Rimmer was being so stubborn and inflexible, refusing to bend to the trappings of a normal relationship.  Now it turned out Rimmer had been compromising all along.  Lister had got off easy.  He’d got the Rimmer-lite version.  He’d been a stupid kid playing in a world he didn’t belong to and Rimmer had tolerated his naivety with extraordinary patience.

 It was clear now that Lister had never been capable of truly satisfying him.  It was the ultimate proof that he could never and _would_ never be the kind of person Arnold Rimmer needed in his life.  He could never even come close.  He’d given this everything he had and he’d still fallen short by light-years.  He had failed.  How had he ever believed that he could make this man fall in love with him?

He looked at the note and all it once it became obvious what had jarred him earlier.  The sign off.  Yours Truly.  Rimmer always signed off ‘Laters baby’.  But not anymore.  Lister was no longer his baby, no longer his sub, no longer part of his life.  Lister dropped the note, bent his head to his knees and sobbed.

 

            Maybe the tears were what he’d needed to finally shake himself out of his dark cloud of depression, or maybe it was finally accepting how futile his hopes had been, but after that night he started to feel more like himself again.  He worked sensible hours, ate mostly sensible meals, and even started going out with Petrovitch and his friends.  He still felt the occasional pang of loss when something reminded him of Rimmer, or something they’d done together, but he didn’t dwell on it.  He was getting on with his life.  He was back to being a nice normal guy, who didn’t have any big secrets or engage in any bizarre, kinky sexual activity of any kind.  And frankly, it was almost something of a relief.

            All of that changed a couple of weeks later, as he stood around a whiteboard with his colleagues.  They’d reached an impasse in their calculations.  One of the physicists was arguing with two of the engineers.  Karl Walker was stood to one side, rubbing at his bald head with noticeable frustration.  Lister was watching from the sidelines, sipping at a mug of tea and waiting for them to reach an agreement so he could continue his work from there.  He hadn’t been through these calculations himself, he’d taken a brief glance and decided it was over his head; but now to pass the time he cast an eye over to see if he could follow it.  The argument faded into the background as he focused.  Yes.  Yes, that made sense.  Yes, he could see how that worked.  And here, yes, that was all as it should be.

            He stopped.  He squinted.  Here.  This part right here was the problem.  But if you looked at it this way...if you worked on the assumption that _this_ was possible, and _that_ could be modified as necessary...

            Without a word, he put down his mug and walked up to the board.  He plucked the pen out of the second engineer’s wildly waving hand and silently rubbed something out and wrote something else in its place.  The engineers and the physicist stopped arguing and turned to see what he was doing.  The group crowded around tightly and there was a short lull as each and every one of them worked through the writing on the board.  One by one, they drew in their breath as they completed the necessary brainwork, and then gasped as the implications became clear.  

 

“Eureka,” Lister said in a small voice.  It wasn’t until much later, he realised that one small act had obliterated any remaining chance he’d had of being normal, boring Dave Lister forever.


	48. Chapter 48

            “No....No, he can’t do Friday.  He already has several interviews that day.  How about Tuesday?  Okay.  Okay.  Fine.  Come back to me with a time.  Thank you.”  Petrovitch put the phone down and scribbled something on Lister’s calendar.  “Another journal wants to talk to you.  I said they’d have to wait until next week.”

“Thanks,” Lister said wearily, “I’ve lost track to be honest.  If it rings again, just let it go to voicemail, yeah?”

“Okay,” Petrovitch joined him on the sofa, “Let’s try and chill out, yes?”

            The two of them were in Lister’s flat with some drinks.  Although neither of them had used the word ‘hiding’, that was effectively what they were doing.  Since news had leaked of the Wildfire breakthrough, the scientific community had gone into a frenzy.  Every major publication and news corporation in the solar system, or so it seemed, wanted to speak to Lister and in the last three days his world had gone crazy.  As his partner on the thesis that had landed them this job, Petrovitch had also experienced a fair amount of attention, but it was Lister who’d been shoved headfirst into the limelight and he was not enjoying it one bit.   His phone would not stop ringing, his email was clogged with messages and there seemed to be a constant crowd of journalists outside the Rimmer Building, which made getting in and out of work like running an obstacle course.

            “You know,” Lister said dismally, “Before I decided to become an engineer, I was going to be a rock star.  I’m glad now I changed my mind.  Can you imagine living like this all the time?  You’d have to be bonkers.”

“Some people crave attention,” Petrovitch shrugged, “I know all of this has been overwhelming but remember we should be grateful.  There are many people who will never get this kind of recognition for their work.”

“I know,” Lister shook his head, “And I knew this thing was going to be big when we got involved.  But I expected a credit on a journal somewhere that would secure my future in the field.  I didn’t expect to be the poster boy for the dimension theory of reality.  I’m twenty years old and I feel like my career’s peaked before it’s even begun.”

“You don’t know that,” Petrovitch told him encouragingly, “Who knows where this will lead?  This could just be the beginning of many exciting discoveries you will make!”

            Lister took a swig of his drink.  The fact that inter-dimensional travel was now a real possibility would have been big news on its own, but he was very aware that what had made it sensational was that the last piece of the puzzle had been slotted into place by a kid like him, without so much as a degree to his name.  The media were painting him as a genius, an incredible ‘boy wonder’, but Lister knew in his heart that this was far from the truth.  He was smart but not brilliant; and now the expectations of all of humanity weighed on him like a backpack full of iridium.  Soon the papers would start dropping through his door, asking for his advice with this theory or that theory, or assistance with some apparently unsolvable equation.  And he’d have to turn around and say, “Um...sorry.  I really can’t help with this.  I haven’t got a clue.”  Once that happened, it was only a matter of time before the media changed their mind and he’d go from ‘genius’ to ‘fraud’ overnight.

            “C’mon, man, be realistic.  I’m never going to be able to top this.  Even if I could, there’s going to be a backlash.  There must be an army of people out there with qualifications as long as your arm, who hate my guts right now; all waiting for me to slip up.”

“Professional jealousy is an issue in any business,” Petrovitch said reasonably, “You don’t have to let it get to you.  And I will not hear you put yourself down.  You are capable of great things, you have already proved this.”

“It was a fluke, Aleks!” Lister stood up and began to pace, agitated, “Most of the work had already been done.  The answer was already there.  Someone would have spotted it before long.”

“But you were the first one to do so,” Petrovitch told him, “And that alone is worthy of commendation.  You deserve this, David.”

            “You know,” Lister rubbed anxiously at his forehead, “I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing was a mistake.”

“David...”

“I mean, have we really thought this through?  Do we really know what we’re messing with here?”

“You and I have discussed the implications of this discovery many times.  It never seemed to worry you then.”

“But then it was just a theory!  Now it’s real.  It’s not just about philosophy and the meaning of life anymore, it’s about real consequences.”

“Such as?”

“Did you ever see that old film – _‘The Call of Cthulhu’_?” Lister asked.  

Petrovitch gave him a look as if to say, _Seriously?  We’re having this conversation?_   “Yes,” he replied levelly, “I have seen it.”

“Well, if the theory is valid, then who’s to say we’re not opening up a portal that might let something like that through?  I mean, if every possibility is played out, then Cthulhu is out there somewhere, right?” Lister went on feverishly.  “We could break the reality barrier and next thing we know there’s some colossal tentacled bastard breaking through into our universe!”

“I don’t think that is likely.  First, even if we make the jump into a dimension containing such a creature, the odds of it having the technology to make a similar jump into our dimension are very small.  Secondly, if we can break the reality barrier, at this stage it will only be through the thinnest membrane into the nearest possible alternate universe.  That means it will probably be a universe very similar to ours, with only a small divergence.  The difference to our dimension will probably be minimal.  I cannot think of any eventuality where one small change would lead to Lovecraft’s elder gods becoming a serious threat.”

            “Okay,” Lister calmed slightly and sat back down, “Maybe that was an overreaction.  But there are other risks.  Inter-dimensional war, for a start.  We never considered that when we were working on this theory.”

“I think,” Petrovitch told him wearily, “That it’s too late for us to start worrying about these things now.  It is out of our hands.”

“But what if I’m right?” Lister persisted, “What if by messing around with those equations, I’ve just set in motion a universal catastrophe?  A _bigger_ than universal catastrophe?”

“By your own admission,” Petrovitch reminded him, “The work was already done.  If it was not you, it would have been someone else.  We joined this project late in the day, you and I.  We are not solely responsible for either its inception or its success.  None of us truly knows how the dimension theory of reality really works.  Maybe every time we make a decision, a new reality branches off.  Maybe every possible reality already exists and we are all pre-destined to make the choices we make based on which reality we inhabit.  Either way, if the worst happens, if all of this is a huge mistake and leads to the destruction of our species and our universe, it is only the end here.  There are still an infinite number of realities where all of this has a happy ending.  All we can do is hope that our reality is one of them.”

            Lister sank back against the couch with a sigh and downed the rest of his drink.  Petrovitch handed him another, “Come.  We are supposed to be chilling out.  Let us focus on the positive.  We are young and successful.  When we start at the academy in September, we are going to be the biggest dudes in that place, my friend.  Even the professors will be - I think you say – our bitches.”  Lister couldn’t help but laugh at that.  He’d already had a congratulatory email from Kochanski saying more or less the same thing.  “I can see you’re not letting any of this go to your head,” he teased, “You’re remaining down to earth and modest.”

“Modest, schmodest,” Petrovitch waved dismissively, “I spent the first sixteen years of my life being tormented.  The other children, they called me names.  They told me I was not cool.  Well, who is the cool one now?”

“You are, Aleks,” Lister patted his arm, “The coolest cat I know,”

“I intend to make the most of this.  You should do the same.”

“Yeah, yeah.  World is my oyster, got it.” Lister got up and went to the window.  “It’s just going to take a while to sink in.”  

           He stared across the city and, as always, his eyes went automatically to the top floor of the Rimmer building.  There was nobody home.  No surprise there.  Right now, the CEO had his hands full.  As his eyes roved across the cityscape, he looked down at the pavement below and the people scurrying about under the streetlamps.  He was willing to bet that none of them were fretting about whether or not they might be about to unleash ancient evil on mankind.  _Nothing sucks like success_ , he thought gloomily.  A familiar shape caught his eye across the street and he cursed loudly, “Oh, for smeg’s sake!  Not again!”

“What’s wrong?” Petrovitch stood up to join him.

“We’re being watched,” Lister told him, his jaw clenched angrily.

“Watched by who?”

“Rimmer.  Who else?”

“Are you sure?  Maybe they’re just paparazzi.”

“Petrovitch, I don’t want to undermine your new-found coolness, but the paparazzi don’t bother guys like us, no matter what we’ve discovered.  We’re not that kind of famous.  Besides, I know that car.  It’s the same one Rimmer used to have follow me around when I was...when we were still together.”

“And you were okay with that?” Petrovitch asked, surprised.

“No.  But I pretended I didn’t know.  It was just easier that way.”

            Petrovitch looked at him, concerned, “You haven’t seen him yet, have you?”

“Not yet,” Lister confirmed, “So far everything’s gone through Walker.”

“What are you going to do when the time comes?  Are you going to be okay?”

“I don’t have much choice.  I’m just bracing myself for it.”

“It’s an unusual situation,” Petrovitch remarked sympathetically.  

Lister snorted, “You’re not wrong.”

“I can see you are annoyed and I understand.  But maybe in the circumstances, the security is not such a bad thing,” Petrovitch mused.  

“What circumstances?”

“Think about it,” Petrovitch fixed him with a look, “If you were valuable enough to Rimmer to require bodyguards when you were just his boyfriend, imagine what you must be worth _now_.”

“But we’re not together anymore!”

“Maybe not.  But right now you are probably Rimmer Inc’s biggest asset.  _And_ you used to date the boss.  If I was in your boots, I would be glad of the back up.”

Lister absorbed this and glanced back down at the car.  “He still should have told me.”

“Yes.  I will not argue with that.  But perhaps,” Petrovitch gave him a gentle but meaningful nudge, “Like you, he decided it was easier not to argue about it.”

            Lister thumped his head gently against the window, “When did my life get so complicated?  Somewhere in the multi-verse there’s a Dave Lister back in Liverpool with a job at the local Megamart who doesn’t have these problems.”

“True.  But he doesn’t have a Ducati either,” Petrovitch said brightly, “And he probably smokes too much.”  

Lister guffawed, “Yeah.  And his flat is probably disgusting.”

“Horrible.”

“He’s good on the guitar though,” Lister added hopefully, “Maybe he’s about to become a rock star after all.”

“David,” Petrovitch clapped him warmly on the shoulder, “You are a dear friend to me but I have heard you play guitar.  Believe me – he is not.”

“Hey, I’m a diva!”

“If you say so.  I do not feel the world is ready for your sound.”

“Philistine.”

“I’m going home.  Try and get some rest, okay?”

“Sure.  All I have to worry about is the future of my career, maintaining a working relationship with my ex, the possible destruction of the universe and maybe getting kidnapped.  I’ll drop right off.”

 


	49. Chapter 49

            The moment Lister had been dreading came the next day.  Walker entered his workspace late in the afternoon, “Spanners, the chief wants to see you in his office.”  Lister stepped back from the diagram he’d been working on with what must have been a clear expression of reluctance.  “Okay.”

“Don’t be nervous. I don’t think you, of all people, have anything to worry about.  Besides, I thought you knew Mr Rimmer quite well?”

“Not that well,” Lister said quickly, “Do I have to go now?”

“Yep.  Hop to it.  And try to smile, will ya?  Maybe you’re getting a raise.”

            Lister peeled off his overalls and headed to the office with his heart fluttering.  He’d never seen Rimmer’s office here before, but he knew it was on the floor directly beneath the penthouse.  The moment he stepped out of the lift, the secretary waiting by her desk ushered him straight through the antechamber, “Go right in, Mister Lister.  He’s expecting you.”  Lister couldn’t help but remember the first time they’d ever met, when he’d been escorted through the Rimmer Building on Saturn as if he’d pee in the corner like an animal if left unattended.  How things had changed.  He squared his shoulders and pushed through the grand double doors of the office.

            He’d been expecting something like the sleek, modern glass bowl back on Saturn, but this room was very different.  In here, there was a strong feel of old-world style; leather and wood and cigar smoke.  There were still huge windows, letting the tawny light of the afternoon stream through, but the light reflected back was a warm shine rather than a harsh glint.  Rimmer was standing behind the desk, in a dark grey suit that hugged his broad shoulders and slender hips.  He was looking out of the window with his back to Lister.  When he heard the door close, he turned and their eyes met for the first time in almost a month.

            There were no words.  Rimmer crossed the room in a few long strides, pulled Lister into his arms and kissed him fiercely; and Lister instantly dissolved into the kiss, the way he always had.  Rimmer’s hands moved over his body, Lister’s hands moved through Rimmer’s hair and before he knew it he was on his back, sprawled across the huge antique desk with Rimmer on top of him and not giving a smeg if the blonde secretary outside could hear them.  “I have missed you...so...much...” Rimmer managed to hiss between kisses.  “So much...” Lister managed to pant in agreement.  They rolled off the desk and landed in a heap on the thick fur rug, Lister on top.  He tugged frantically at the front of Rimmer’s trousers, practically breaking the zip in his overwhelming need to just get the damn things _off_.  “Need you...” he whispered, “Right now.  Need to taste you.”

“Do it, baby,” Rimmer urged breathlessly.  Lister took him in his mouth and the sensation made him shiver from head to toe with delight.  Oh, this felt so _right_.  Rimmer’s hands curled around his head, pulling him down, forcing him to take the cock deeper into his throat and they both moaned.  “Don’t ever leave me again,” Rimmer growled, his fingers caressing the back of Lister’s neck, “You belong to me, always, do you understand?”  Lister made a muffled sound of agreement, which was the best he could do at that moment.  His own cock was straining against his zipper like a caged animal trying to break free but he ignored it.  He needed to do this, for himself and for Rimmer, as a symbol of his submission and a symbol of contrition.  He needed to absolve himself for inflicting the last few weeks of pain on them both.  He needed forgiveness.  Rimmer’s hands tightened on him as he swallowed him over and over, “Dave...oh, Dave....Dave...!”

            “...Dave?”  Lister blinked.  Rimmer was still standing, fully clothed, behind the desk.  “Would you like to take a seat?” he asked gently.  Lister gave himself a mental shake and quickly took the offered seat, his cheeks pinked.  Rimmer sat down opposite him.  “How are you?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Okay,” Lister said shortly, “Is this going to take long?”

“No,” Rimmer told him reassuringly, “I just need to speak to you about what’s been happening.”

“Sure.”

“I’m assuming you’ve had an interesting few days.”

“You could say that.”

“You do realise the effect this is going to have on your life?  Things aren’t just going to go back to normal.  Not any time soon.  If ever.”

“I don’t want anything to change,” Lister said quietly, “I just want to get on with my job.”

“I thought you’d say that.  And if it’s really what you want, I will shield you from the publicity as much as I can.  But you must know, in these circumstances, there’s only so much I can do.”

“I understand.”

Rimmer hesitated before continuing.  “I have something to tell you.  We’re giving a press conference on Friday.  All the major news companies have been invited and it will be going out live.  Naturally, we need the man of the moment to be front and centre.”  

“Are you having a laugh?”

“All you need to do is a short Q&A.  It won’t take long.  I’ll take over from there.”

“You want me to do an interview with you on live TV?” Lister started to feel sick, “This is your idea of shielding me from publicity?!”

“It will be better to get it over with in one short slot than to have people chasing you for interviews for months.”

“But _live_?  Can’t we do a pre-record somewhere?”

“No.  The networks want a live show.  I asked you up here because I wanted to break it to you gently; but also because I wanted you to know that this isn’t my doing.  I’m not trying to force my company on you, or make you uncomfortable.  I offered to do the whole thing myself, but the board of directors insist on you being there.”

“You’re the CEO – why don’t you just _tell_ them you’re doing it!”

“I could, but I’m not going to.  Because they’re right, you should be there.  And I’m saying that as both the chairman of this company and as someone who cares about you.  This is your moment.”

“It’s not going to do me or your company any good if I make a complete twat of myself on the telly!” Lister argued.

“You’ll be fine.  The PR department will prep you before the night.  I have every confidence in you.”

“Rimmer, listen to me,” Lister leaned forward urgently, “What I pulled off in that lab the other day was a one in a million shot.  For some reason I can’t explain, it just clicked.  I was lucky.  I don’t want to push that luck.”  

Rimmer regarded him sadly, “The hottest young engineer in the galaxy and you still can’t accept how remarkable you are.  You’ve made possibly the most important breakthrough in history.  Isn’t it time you started to believe in yourself, just a little bit?”

“These people think I’m a genius!  What am I supposed to do when they start asking me questions I can’t answer?”

“Okay,” Rimmer held up a hand to calm him, “For the record, I don’t think that’s going to happen.  You are smarter than you have ever given yourself credit for.  Have a try.  Challenge yourself.  You can do it.  _But_...if you look like you’re struggling I will step in and change the subject or find a way to bail you out.  Okay?  I’m not going to let my star employee crash and burn in front of an audience.  It’s not good for business.  Trust me.”

Lister’s stomach pulled into a tight knot at the words.  He’d heard Rimmer say that too many times.  “It doesn’t look like I have much choice,” he said bitterly, “This contract’s not going to be as easy to get out of, is it?”

Rimmer winced, “This is hard for me too,” he said, his voice carrying a faint hint of resentment, “I knew you were something special when I hired you, but neither of us could have anticipated this.  I understand that it’s awkward and the timing couldn’t be more smeggy, but there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

“No,” Lister agreed limply.

“Is there anything I can do, anything at all, to make this easier for you?” Rimmer asked him, “You only have to say the word.”  

_Erase my memory of the last three months_ , Lister felt like saying, _Make me forget the feel of your hair in my fingers and your arms around me.  Then at least I might be able to think straight when we’re in a room together with a bunch of TV cameras pointed at us._  “No,” he said, “There’s nothing,”

“Did you keep any of the clothes I sent you?” Rimmer enquired, then added quickly when he saw Lister’s face, “I only ask because you’ll need something to wear on Friday night.”  

“Yes,” Lister replied shortly, “I kept the suits.  But only because they wouldn’t fit anyone else.  I sold the rest.  And before you ask, I gave the money away.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.  But, as you brought it up, I’m curious to know who you gave the money to.”  Lister glanced away and chewed self-consciously on his thumbnail.

“If you must know,” he muttered, “I gave it to the panda centre at Titan Zoo.”  There was a short, painful silence before Rimmer spoke.  

“Well,” he said, “I certainly can’t think of a better cause.”

            Lister glared at him.  If he didn’t focus on feeling angry, he’d start crying.  “Can I go now?” he asked pointedly.

“Yes,” Rimmer leaned back in his chair, his shoulders slumped, “You can go.  The PR guys will be in touch with the details for Friday.  I’ll see you then.”

“Fine,” Lister pushed back his chair and went to leave.

“Do us both a favour,” Rimmer called after him, “And take care of yourself.  The next few days are going to be tough.  Stay at home.  Get some rest.”

“I hate to disappoint you,” Lister responded archly, “But I really don’t care about looking pretty for the cameras.  As far as I’m concerned, this is your party, man.  Not mine.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I was protecting my investment and not interested in your well-being at all?” Rimmer asked sarcastically.

“I think your ‘investment’ is protected enough,” Lister bit back, “Although for most people, the bodyguards would be a little bit over the top.”

“I’m sorry?” Rimmer blinked.

            Lister rolled his eyes, “Look, there’s no point being coy about it now, is there?” he asked peevishly, “I mean, come on.  Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Notice what?”

“I know, Rimmer.  I’ve known for ages.  I appreciate the thought and all that, but is it really necessary?  You could have at least talked to me first.”

“Okay,” Rimmer fixed him with a look of total bafflement, “I think you need to back up and start at the beginning, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine,” Lister shook his head and headed for the door, “Whatever.  Play your little game.  I don’t care.  Do what you like.”

“Hang on just one second, squire!” Rimmer stood up, “We are not done talking about this.  Get back here and tell me what you’re going on about.”

            Lister bristled at his authoritative tone but walked a few paces back into the room, arms folded.  “I saw the car outside my building again last night.  You know, I tolerated it while we were...while I was...when things were different.  But I don’t think it’s appropriate anymore.  You should have run it past me first.  Or is this another one of your control issues?  Do you still need to know what I’m doing all the time?”

“What car?  _My_ car?  The limo?”

“No, the _other_ one,” Lister told him, getting annoyed now.  

Rimmer put his hands flat on the desk and stared across at Lister intently, “ _What_ other one?  Dave, has someone been following you?”  

Lister faltered.  He’d been so sure.  There was no way it could be a coincidence.  But Rimmer wasn’t reacting as he’d expected.  He’d been prepared for denials, but not for this fierce response.  “The car you sent to look after me,” he said weakly.  

“Is that what they told you?  That I’d sent them?” Rimmer demanded.

“No.  No, they’ve never said anything to me.  It’s just...always there.”

            Rimmer scooped the phone off his desk in one swift movement.  “Taylor, can you come to my office please.  Urgently.”  Lister watched him, anxiety starting to uncoil deep in his throat as he saw Rimmer’s face.  “You really didn’t send it?” he asked quietly.  

“No,” Rimmer ran a hand back through his hair and Lister recognised the gesture as a sign of genuine disturbance on Rimmer’s part.  That, more than anything else, convinced him something was really wrong.  

“Tell me everything,” Rimmer pointed to the chair and Lister sat back down meekly, “When did you first see it?”

“Ages ago,” Lister said, “The night I had my leaving party on Saturn.  It was waiting outside the bar when I came out.”

“You’re sure it was the same car?”

“I don’t know.  I think so.  But it was dark.”

“And how often have you seen it since then?”

“All the time.  I mean, not every day.  But a lot.”

“Where?  When?”

“Coming back and forth from here mostly.  Or hanging around my flat.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything?” Rimmer asked angrily.  

Lister floundered, “I was going to!  But there was never a good time.  I didn’t want to fight about it.  And once we...terminated our arrangement...I didn’t think it mattered anymore.”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this,” Rimmer growled, “You were a pain in the ass every time I bought you a new shirt, but you didn’t so much as peep about the fact you thought I was having you followed?!”

“I didn’t want to turn it into an issue.”

“Why not?  You never had a problem making an issue out of just about everything else.”

“That’s not fair!  Besides, I had no reason to think it was anything to worry about.  Stalking people is fairly standard behaviour for you, it didn’t exactly come as a big surprise.”

“I still can’t believe you never even mentioned it.”  

               Lister leaned forward, embarrassed, and put his head down on the desk, hands linked behind his head.  “Okay,” he said, his voice muffled, “Here’s the thing.  I didn’t say anything because I didn’t mind.”

“What?”  

“I didn’t mind the thought of having bodyguards around, okay?” Lister sat up, his face red.

“But...” Rimmer waved his hands, frustrated, “If you didn’t mind, then why did you think it would cause a fight?”  Lister glared at him, 

“Because, smeghead, I didn’t want _you_ to think I didn’t mind.  You can’t just follow people around!”

“Okay,” Rimmer rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted, “Now you’ve totally lost me.”

“I liked having the extra security,” Lister admitted, “But I didn’t want you to think that hiring someone to tail me without my permission was acceptable.  So I left it alone.  I pretended not to notice.”

“So, in short, this mess boils down to the fact that you were too much of a goit to admit that me looking out for you might not be such a bad thing?”

“Except, as it turns out, you weren’t looking out for me at all!”

“So now I’m the bad guy for _not_ stalking you?  You’re impossible!”

“That’s not...!” Lister’s riposte was interrupted by Taylor entering the office.  He closed his mouth and shot Rimmer a warning look – _This is not over_.

            Taylor did the slightest of double takes when he saw Lister but hid it remarkably well.  “Mister Lister.  It’s very nice to see you again.”

“Hi Taylor.  Good to see you too, man.”

“We have a situation here,” Rimmer cut to the chase, “David says someone has been monitoring his movements over the past few weeks.”

“Description?” Taylor asked.

“Just a car.” They both turned to Lister expectantly.

“I’m not sure what kind of car it is,” he admitted, “I’ve never got a really good look at it.  But it’s a fancy one.  The first time I saw it, I thought it might be a Bentley, but I’m not certain.  Dark blue, tinted windows.”

“Reg number?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do some research,” Rimmer turned to Taylor, “Go back over any enemies I may have made recently – failed bids, hostile takeovers, anything like that – find out if any of them drive a blue car.”

“Yes, sir.”

            Rimmer rounded on Lister again, “You need to think too.  Is there anyone back on Saturn who was aware of our connection?  Someone who might have a grudge?”

“I can’t think of anyone,” Lister shrugged, “Certainly no-one who would have access to a car like that.  But who says it’s anyone we know?  Let’s face it, by the time I left college it was hardly a secret anymore that you and I were involved somehow.  The students and the faculty were all aware something was going on.  Someone says something to their family, their mate, their partner.  They say something to their friends.  Who knows how far gossip like that might go?”

            Rimmer began to pace up and down furiously, “I shouldn’t have let this happen.  I’ve been so foolish.”

“It’s not your fault,” Lister said uncomfortably, “Someone was bound to see us together at some point.”

 “Not necessarily.  If I’d been more disciplined, if I’d followed the same rules with you as I did with the others, this wouldn’t have happened.  I should never have dropped my guard.  I let myself get carried away.”  At the mention of ‘ _the others_ ’ Lister felt the barely healed wounds of his conversation with Mrs Jones split open again.  

“I think we both know,” he told Rimmer coolly, “That I was never like ‘the others’.”  Rimmer looked at him with surprise, then smiled wanly.  

“No,” he agreed, “You were always different.  But that’s no excuse for my behaviour.  And now you’re paying the price for my carelessness.”

“Look,” Lister tried to steer the conversation back to the matter in hand, “Nothing bad has happened.  Let’s not freak out just yet.  Let’s just decide what we do next.”

“I think you should stay here,” Rimmer said immediately, “Until we know who’s behind this.”  Lister’s heart expanded three sizes then whizzed around his chest cavity like a burst balloon.  

“You _really_ think that’s a good idea?” he asked pointedly.

“It’s not safe for you to go back to your flat.”

“Don’t be daft.  I’ve been there since this whole thing began and nothing’s happened.”

“You mean nothing’s happened _yet_.”

“You’re overreacting.  If it makes you feel better I can stay with Petrovitch.”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.  Your skinny physicist friend is not going to be able to protect you if a gang break in with guns.”

“Neither are you.”

“This building is far more secure.”

“Look, you are not locking me up in this damn tower!” Lister flicked a sideways glance at Taylor before adding, “You know how I feel about being locked up.”

            Rimmer took the hint.  “Alright.  If you’re determined to be awkward.  But Taylor is driving you home today and I want you to stay there.  I will arrange for extra security to guard your apartment.  If you need anything I will arrange for Taylor to bring it to you or to escort you wherever you need to go.  You do not go anywhere by yourself, is that clear?”

“Surely the best thing for me to do is to carry on as normal,” Lister argued, “If Taylor starts running around after me, it will just make it look like we’re back together.  That’ll only make things worse.”

“I don’t give a smeg how it makes it look,” Rimmer barked, “You said you liked the idea of having security, so don’t argue now I’m actually giving it to you.  Either you agree to this now, or I will go ahead and order a full security team to follow you anyway.  Your choice, miladdio!”

            Lister turned to Taylor for help, “Are you really going to follow me around everywhere, knowing that I’m not happy about it?” he challenged him.  

Taylor smiled apologetically, “Mr Rimmer is my boss,” he said, “So it looks like neither of us have much choice.  But for the record, I’d feel a lot worse if anything happened to you and we hadn’t taken any precautions.  So I’d be obliged if you would agree.”  Lister looked back and forth between them, fuming.

“Fine,” he yielded unwillingly.

“Good,” Rimmer’s voice lowered, “Now that’s settled, Taylor, will you make the necessary arrangements for a security team to go ahead to Mister Lister’s building.  Once they are in place you can escort him home.”

“Very good, sir.  I’ll let you know when we’re ready.” Taylor nodded sympathetically to Lister as he left and Lister glumly returned the nod.

            When the door closed behind him, Lister eyed Rimmer defiantly, “Tell me honestly,” he asked, “Is this ever going to change?  Are you ever going to let me have control back of my own life?”

“Don’t start.  Right now this is necessary, you know it as well as I do, even if you won’t admit it.”

“And what about when this is over?  I feel like, one way or another, you’ve been orchestrating everything that’s happened in my life since the moment we first met.”

“I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.”

“And I won’t deny that you have done more for me than I can ever thank you for.  But answer my question.  Are you ever going to step back and let me get on with my life and make my own mistakes, or are you always going to be watching and conducting in the background?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m ever going to stop caring about you, then the answer is no.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s the only answer I can give you,” Rimmer said bluntly.

            Lister absorbed this for a moment, then shook his head and stood up.  “I suppose I can’t raise any objections now about the way things have turned out.  You warned me from the beginning.  You said you were going to turn my life upside down.  You said you were going to be bad for me.  I should have listened to you.”  He headed for the door.  

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my office to wait for Taylor.  Tell him to find me when he’s ready to go.”

“Wait.”

            Rimmer left the desk and walked over to him.  He didn’t stop until they were standing toe-to-toe.  Lister breathed in his scent and was rocked by memories and a deep craving for more.  How was it possible to feel this angry with someone but still long for them with every ounce of your being?  

“I know I said that I only ever wanted what was best for you but that was a lie,” Rimmer admitted.  “I always knew that pursuing you the way I did was wrong.  I always knew that this had the potential to turn into a disaster.  I should have never brought someone like you into my world.  And I was honest with you from the start about the fact that this was probably always doomed to failure.  I gambled and took the risk of hurting us both because I was insane with desire for you and I wanted to believe that, despite all the odds, this could end up being the best thing that ever happened to either of us.”  He paused and his voice when he spoke again was soft and pleading.  “But please believe me,” he whispered, “I would have never taken that risk if I’d thought, even for a moment, that my decision would actually put you in real danger.  If anything were to happen to you because of me, I would never forgive myself. I cannot, I _will_ not, take the chance of any harm coming to you because of my selfishness.  That’s why I need you to work with me on this.”  

Lister closed his eyes, depressed.  “You know,” he whispered back with difficulty, “What I said just now, about you being bad for me, it was true.  But it doesn’t matter.  None of this matters.  Because whatever happens, you will still always be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

            Rimmer reached up, cupped Lister’s face and gently bent his head to rest against his.  “When I know you’re safe,” he murmured, “I will pull back the security team.  I will leave you alone to live your life and make your mistakes, if that’s what you want.  But know this; even when you are finally free from me, I will never ever be free from you.”

            The tears started to spill hotly down Lister’s face before he could even think about stopping them.  He reached up and pulled Rimmer’s hands away from him.  “I can’t...” he choked out, “I’m sorry but I can’t.  Just let me go.”  Rimmer stepped away from him, his expression stricken.  

“Go,” he said simply, “I’ll send Taylor for you.”  Lister nodded, wiped his face and almost ran out of the room, rushing past the bemused looking secretary outside so she wouldn’t see his face. 


	50. Chapter 50

            On Friday night, Lister sat stiffly in the back of the limo, watching rain drum against the windows as they rumbled through the streets towards the Rimmer Building.  Petrovitch sat beside him, as Taylor drove them both towards the dreaded press conference.  It was the first time he’d been out of the flat since he’d found out the car that had been following him might be a genuine threat and so far there had been no progress with finding out who was behind it.  For the last three days he’d been under effective house arrest in his apartment and the only prep he’d been able to do for this event had involved a long phone call and a series of emails with the PR department and some improvisation, with Petrovitch throwing likely questions at him as practice.  He’d have been nervous enough about his television appearance without the added stress of wondering if there might be someone watching with more sinister motives.  He was horribly aware that if someone had it in for Arnold Rimmer, then assassinating his most important employee and former lover, at the company’s biggest moment of triumph, live on TV, would be a good way to show it.

            When they arrived at the hub, all three of them made their way up to the main boardroom where the conference was being held.  As the lift doors opened they were met with a barrage of flash photography.  Lister took a step backwards as a swarm of microphones were pushed at his face and the sound of a million questions all being shouted at once deafened him.  Taylor politely but firmly pushed a path through the throng of reporters, “Please reserve all questions for the main conference!” he shouted, guiding them through.  

Finally they made it into the boardroom and were greeted by Walker, looking deeply uncomfortable in a black suit.  “Crazy out there, huh?” he grunted.  He observed Lister’s pale expression, “Don’t be nervous, Spanners.  Trust me, this thing will be over before you know it.  It looks like a whole big circus, but it’s really not a big deal.”

“He’s right,” Petrovitch chipped in, “This is only fifteen minutes of your life.  Once it is over, we will find a quiet corner to sit and abuse the complimentary champagne.”

“Great,” Lister said, without much enthusiasm.  

Taylor put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I can’t help you much with the celebrity stuff,” he told him, “But I can tell you I’m going to be watching the whole show from the side of the room and I have backup,” he patted his breast pocket meaningfully.  “You worry about the cameras, let me worry about everything else, okay?  I got your back.”

“Cheers.”

“Is this something I should know about?” Walker raised an eyebrow.

“Just a precaution,” Taylor told him easily, “There’s been a minor security alert, Mister Rimmer just wants to cover all bases.  I don’t think there’s anything to be concerned about.”  Lister wished he could feel as confident as Taylor sounded.

            He and Walker headed to the podium where three lecterns and microphones had been set up ready.  Rimmer was behind them, talking to one of the company directors and a TV exec wearing a headset.  “Ah, good,” he remarked when he spotted them, “We’re all here.  Let’s get cracking then.”  He rubbed his hands together as the executive scampered off, chattering instructions to invisible colleagues.  “Right away?” Lister asked anxiously.

“Sooner we start, the sooner it’s done,” Rimmer said gently, “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“You’ll be fine,” Rimmer told him, putting an encouraging hand on his back as he stepped up to the podium.  Lister took a deep breath.  It might have been intended as a calming gesture but the touch only succeeded in making his heart race alarmingly.

            They took up their positions, Rimmer in the centre, Lister to his right and Walker on his left.  The noise in the room fell to a hush and Lister squinted into the bright lights of the cameras.  He could barely see a thing against the glare.  A voice somewhere in the room chanted out, “Live in five, four, three, two, one...”

“Good evening,” Rimmer said smoothly, “Thank you all for joining us here on Jupiter tonight.  We are here to answer any questions you may have about the recent advances made by this company regarding what the media are calling ‘Dimension Jumping’.  Who would like to start?”

            To Lister’s relief, most of the questions were immediately fielded by either Rimmer or Walker.  He tried to focus on looking calm and politely interested.  The few questions that were posed to him directly were easy ones.  Would he still be attending the academy in the autumn to obtain his degree?  Would he be publishing any of the work he’d done on the project?  How was he coping with his sudden fame?   One reporter raised a hand and asked, “Will Mr Lister be continuing to work for Rimmer Inc for the foreseeable future or will he be pursuing other avenues now that the major theory work for the project has been completed?”

“Erm...” Lister hesitated, “I suppose really that’s a question for my boss.”  He glanced over shyly at Rimmer, unwilling to risk too much eye contact with the man while they had an audience.  There was soft laughter and Rimmer smiled.  “Mr Lister will have a position in this company for as long as he wishes,” he announced, “It is my sincere hope that he will take a strong lead in the continuing development of the Wildfire programme and the challenge of making the theory of reality a _true_ reality.”  

Another hand shot up, “Once the prototype vessel is completed, will the company be liaising with the space corps to recruit a test pilot for the project?”

“The nature of this venture is such that we are currently reluctant to engage the services of a test pilot,” Rimmer replied, “At this point in time there is no certainty regarding the conditions either craft or pilot would be subjected to in the process of making a jump.  Similarly, we still have no conclusive evidence that even if a successful jump could be made, that a return journey would also be possible.”

“But how are you going to test the theory without a pilot?” the reporter asked.

“Given the uncertainties attached to the project, this is not a mission that I would ask any pilot to commit to.  Nor would I ask any man or woman to send their child, sibling or spouse into such a situation.  It is simply not fair.”  Lister looked down at his hands and recalled their conversation about the fate of Mrs Jones’ lost son.  At the time Rimmer had seemed flippant about the loss, but maybe the discussion had touched him more deeply than he’d revealed.  “Therefore,” Rimmer continued, “The current plans are for me to pilot the maiden voyage of Wildfire myself.”

            A tremor of shock quaked the room, but Lister didn’t notice.  He didn’t even hear the gasps of shock and stunned whispers that were suddenly deafening.  He forgot about the cameras, the audience - in the room and around the solar system - and his fragile façade of calm and whipped his head round to stare at Rimmer in disbelief.  Rimmer didn’t meet his stare, but maintained his composure and waited for the hubbub to die down.  Now there were a mass of hands in the air.  

“Mr Rimmer, are you really qualified to take on such a feat?” the first journalist asked.

“That’s difficult to answer,” Rimmer replied calmly, “We’re dealing with the complete unknown here, so I suppose the answer is no.  But then neither is anyone else in this universe, so I think that puts us all on an equal footing.”

“If I could add,” Walker interjected, “Mr Rimmer may not have been trained by the space corps but I can personally vouch for his ability.  He is a highly qualified and, if I may say so, ace pilot.  He has as much chance as any captain in the fleet of making a success of this mission.”

“What will happen to Rimmer Inc should complications arise?” was the next question, “Who would assume control of the company if the mission goes awry?”

“Discussions are still ongoing,” Rimmer replied calmly, “There is a long way to go before we have a prototype built and ready to fly.  There’s plenty of time to iron out the details.”

            Lister stood through the brief remainder of the conference in a state of numb shock.  It was a stroke of luck that Rimmer’s bombshell meant no further questions were directed to him, because he couldn’t have answered any.  He felt like he’d taken a blow to the head.  None of this felt real.  _He can’t be serious.  This is a publicity stunt.  It has to be._  At the end of the session, Rimmer put an arm around his shoulders and shook his hand while the cameras strobed around them.  Lister looked up into his face and Rimmer glanced down at him guiltily.  “Smile for the cameras, David,” he whispered.  Lister swallowed hard.  Rimmer had said the exact same thing to him the day they’d met at the college and Rimmer had taken him out for lunch.  The day he’d almost got knocked over by the courier on the bike.  The day he’d first counted all fifty shades in Rimmer’s hazel eyes and fallen violently in love.  He looked up into those eyes now with a mob of emotions fighting for control.  He forced himself to take a deep breath, dragged up a wide smile that he knew couldn’t possibly look genuine and tried not to scream.   The moment he heard the executive call, “We’re out!  That’s a wrap everyone!” he pulled his hand free of Rimmer’s and marched off the stage.

            “Dave, wait,” Rimmer said urgently, following him.  In the aftermath of Rimmer’s dramatic revelation and the bustle of the departing TV crew, no-one was paying attention to them at the back of the room.  Lister wheeled to face him, “Please tell me this is a joke,” he whispered.

“It’s not a joke.  I’ve been considering it for a long time.  Since before we met.  A decision was only made a few days ago.”

“And this is how you drop it on me?  On live television???”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t think it was going to come up tonight.  There were no plans to make the announcement.  I thought we’d have time to discuss it later.  More privately.”

“When did you think was going to be a good time to tell me that you’re planning your own suicide?” Lister responded angrily.

“Don’t think of it that way.  I’m a hologram.  I’ve got more chance of making it through the reality barrier unscathed than any living pilot would have.  Besides, there’s still a lot of work to do.  We don’t know what’s going to come out of it.”

“You know what?” Lister backed away, “It doesn’t matter.  It’s none of my business.  You’re the boss.  You don’t have to tell me anything.  I’m just another employee.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“I wish it was!  In fact right now, man, I’m honestly wishing I’d never met you.  Then maybe none of this would be happening.  And I sure as smeg wouldn’t be standing here feeling like you just pulled my heart out of my chest with half the galaxy watching at home!”

“I’m sorry,” Rimmer replied sourly, “I didn’t think you would take it this hard.  After all,” he reminded him coldly, “you’re the one who chose to walk away.”

“It wasn’t about _choice_ ,” Lister replied furiously, “If I’d had a _choice_ in the matter, I would have never fallen in love with you.  I’d have just enjoyed our arrangement for what it was, while it lasted, and chalked it up to life experience when it ended.  But I couldn’t change how I feel about you and I couldn’t change how you feel about me.  Walking away was the only choice I had left.”  

            “Is everything okay?”  They spun around at the sound of Petrovitch’s voice.  He was hovering nearby with Walker.  From the looks on both their faces, they’d obviously heard more of the argument than they were comfortable with.  Lister felt his cheeks glow hot.  “Fine,” he said abruptly.

“Listen, Spanners,” Walker told him placatingly, “I’m sorry you weren’t in the loop but so far it’s only been talked about at a senior level.  We didn’t think there was any reason anyone else needed to know yet.  Nobody was expecting a direct question about it at this stage in the game.”  Walker cast what might have been the slightest look of annoyance in Rimmer’s direction, “I certainly don’t think anyone was expecting an announcement.”

“Whatever,” Lister sighed heavily, “It’s done now.”

“Come and have a drink,” Petrovitch said gently, “I think you have earned one.”

“Give me a minute,” Lister told him, “Before anything else I need a cigarette.”

“You want me to come?”

“No, thanks.  I need a moment to myself.”

“I understand.”

“Dave...” Rimmer stepped forward but Lister shook his head wearily and cut him off.

“No,” he said.  His voice was quiet but firm.  “No more.  Not tonight.”  He turned to Petrovitch, “I’ll be back in five, yeah?”

“Okay.”

            Lister nodded to Walker, who nodded back and then turned to Rimmer.  Lister had a feeling the two of them were about to have an interesting discussion, but he no longer cared if it concerned him or not.  He made for the exit.


	51. Chapter 51

            Lister took the elevator back down to the ground floor and headed for the main exit.  The heavy rain had driven everyone else inside and he was grateful.  He stood alone under the wide sheltered porch, lit a cigarette and leaned back against the wall, watching the rain pour around him.  He felt drained.  This week had been a killer.  It had all been too much; the nerves, the emotions, the shock.  He wanted to curl up into a ball somewhere, to hibernate until all the craziness and all the feelings were done with; shut himself in a stasis booth and wait three million years or so until all of this was utterly irrelevant and he could emerge as someone new.  Lister was an optimist by nature, but right now he could see no way out of this bleak fog of unhappiness.  This moment was the closest he’d ever come to wishing himself dead.

            “Want to talk about it?” a soft voice asked.  Lister turned in surprise to see a familiar figure.  Marlena Vandoren was leaning against the wall next to him, with a cigarette of her own.  

“Hello,” he said, straightening up uncomfortably.

“Hello.  You know, for a man who’s just made his first successful television appearance, you don’t seem very happy.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” Lister said as politely as he could.

“Oh, I get everywhere,” she said with a wicked smile, “And so do you, it seems.  I’m sure I spotted you just a few weeks ago at that little performance in the botanical gardens.”

“Really?” Lister replied vaguely, deciding his safest policy was to neither confirm or deny anything.

            “Look at you,” she straightened up and faced him, “When I met you just a few months ago, you were nothing but a promising young student.  Now you’re the golden boy of the galactic scientific community.  You certainly climbed the ladder fast, didn’t you?  But then,” she dragged meaningfully on her cigarette, “Arnold has always had a gift for spotting talent.”  She looked him up and down appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Lister replied tightly.  

“And I can’t help but wonder why you’d be out here feeling sorry for yourself, when you should be up there drinking champagne with your friends and celebrating.”

“Mrs Vandoren...”

“Marlena.  Please.” She smiled teasingly again, “Or Mrs Robinson, if you prefer.”

Lister went red.  _Thanks a heap, Rimmer._ “Marlena,” he said, as sweetly as he could manage, “I’m not really in the mood for celebrating.  And I’d quite like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh dear,” she said pityingly, “I thought as much.  David, David, David.  I could have told you that man would break your heart, the first night we met.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Men like Arnold don’t have much truck with love, my boy.”

            Lister, flustered and annoyed, turned away from her and lit another cigarette.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.  Now, I wasn’t born yesterday and I’ve known Arnold Rimmer for more years than I care to mention.  I’ve got a good idea what kind of interest he’s been taking in you and your work.  And unless I’m very much mistaken, it looks like your ‘internship’,” she made little inverted commas in the air to emphasise her point, “has come to an end.  Am I right?”

“I don’t think this is any of your business.”

“Now, there’s no need to be defensive.  I’m one of the few people out there who truly understands what you’ve lost.  And I’d like to help.”

“Help how?” Lister asked sceptically.  Marlena tipped her head to one side condescendingly.  

“David,” she said frankly, “That man in there isn’t the only person in the world who knows how to swing a whip.”  

Lister coughed on his cigarette and stared at her.  Part of him knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he still was.  Rimmer had always been so secretive about his hobbies - he’d made Lister sign a legal disclaimer before confiding in him, for smeg’s sake – and now here was this woman, right out in the open offering up kinky sex as casually as offering him a cigarette.  

“Come with me back to my house,” she said coaxingly, “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t have much truck with love either.  But I can take care of you.  I can give you what you need.”  Lister remembered what Rimmer had told him about Marlena Vandoren the night he’d met her (- _she makes me look like St Francis of Assissi_ -) and his subconscious did the mental equivalent of rearing up like a frightened horse and galloping in the other direction.  There was no way he was going anywhere near this woman’s lair.  “Thanks,” he replied guardedly, “But I’m really not into that stuff.”

“Oh, come now.  We both know that you wouldn’t have spent the last three months sharing Arnold Rimmer’s bed if that were true.” 

 Lister squirmed.  Part of him was mortified to think that this woman knew so much about his sex life, but it also touched a nerve that what she’d said wasn’t exactly accurate.  

“For your information,” he told her through gritted teeth, “I’ve never shared Arnold Rimmer’s bed.”

“Sweetheart, please,” she said mockingly, “When you spend as much time as I do around people who are gagged, you get good at reading body language.  Up on that stage just now, you two were the War and Peace of body language.  It was all there for the whole room to see.  I just happen to be an expert in that genre.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Au contraire, I know a great deal about you.  I have to say, after Arnold introduced us, my curiosity was...shall we say...aroused?” she smirked at her own double-entendre.  Lister stared at her.  “I thought I’d do a little bit of investigation and see if my suspicions were well-founded.  Now, I know better than to make any assumptions about the nature of the sleeping arrangements, but I do know for a fact that over the last few months you have spent far more nights in this tower than you have in your own bed.”

Lister was speechless.  Marlena obviously took his silence as a confession of guilt.  “You see, it’s no good playing innocent with me.  I already know that you are nowhere near as sweet as you pretend, brown eyes.  So let’s stop playing games, shall we?”  She pulled out her phone, “José, bring the car around, will you?”  A sleek dark blue car with tinted windows slid around the corner moments later and pulled up next to them.  Lister recognised it.  A beautiful young boy with dark olive skin and spanish eyes opened the door.  “Come on,” she cajoled, “Hop in.  We’ll have a few drinks together.  You and José can get to know each other.  And when we get home, we’ll have a little party.  It’ll be fun.”

“This is _your_ car?” Lister asked quietly, silently counting to ten and trying to make sure he had this clear in his head before he reacted.

“Yes.”  

             A combination of fury and immense relief flooded through Lister.  He’d spent days terrified that any moment he’d be dragged away by ruthless criminals or hired mercenaries and all this time it was just some horny middle-aged woman following him around.  “I thought you were going to kidnap me!” he blurted out.

“Well, that can be arranged,” she purred, “If that’s what turns you on.”

“What?” Lister replied incredulously, “ _No!_   What the hell is wrong with you?  What the hell is wrong with _all_ of you....you freaky, messed-up, rich people!”  Mrs Vandoren blinked at him, obviously taken aback by his outburst.  “You think you can do whatever you like, don’t you?” Lister exploded, “It’s all a game to you!  Where do you get off?  Just because you think I’d make a nice addition to your collection of boy toys, that doesn’t give you the right to stalk me!”  He pushed past her and started to storm off back to the building, then swung back round and shouted, “And for the record, I have no interest in...” he gestured inarticulately at José, “...whatever _this_ is that you have going on.  And just to make myself totally clear, if I _ever_ see this car outside my home again I’m calling the cops!  Just leave me the smeg alone!”

            As he made for the doors, Rimmer came out and met him.  “There you are.  I was starting to worry.  You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, not with everything that’s going on.”

“Well, let me put your mind at rest!” Lister raged, “Because the mystery is solved and it’s standing right there!”  He turned to point emphatically at a sheepish looking Marlena and bemused José.  Rimmer looked at them, looked at the car, processed the information and scowled, perplexed, “Marlena?”

“Now that’s sorted out,” Lister continued, still fired up and on a roll, “You can get on your phone and pull back your security team.  I want them gone by the time I get home!”

“Okay,” Rimmer said soothingly, catching hold of Lister as he tried to push past and holding on to him, “But forget about her for a minute.  Hang on a second.  I really need to speak to you.”

“I don’t want to hear it!  You promised me this would be the end of it, you promised to set me free, so do it!  Stay away from me and tell your fucked-up friends to do the same!”

            He pulled away and stomped back into the building, punching the elevator button hard enough to hurt, and headed for his office.  On the way there he pulled out his phone and called Petrovitch.  “David, where are you?”

“I’m going home.  Tell Taylor he can stand down.  Rimmer will fill you in when he gets back.”

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing.  Everything’s fine.  I just need to get out of here.  I’m taking the bike.”

“Are you sure everything is okay?  Should I come home with you?  We can both get on the bike.”

“No, you stay.  Make some excuses for me.  Trust me, I am not going to be any fun to be around tonight.”

“If you are sure...”

“I’m sure.”

“I am sorry tonight has been such a bummer for you,” Aleks’ sympathy sounded sincere, “Things will seem better in the morning perhaps.”

“Aleks,” Lister sighed, “It’s hard to see how they could get worse.”

            He retrieved his bike keys and leathers from his locker, where they’d been ever since Taylor had driven him home earlier in the week and headed down to the car park.  When he fired up the Ducati, the engine sounded as angry as he felt.  He revved it up and sped out into the driving rain.

            His mind was going in circles as he flew through the dark empty streets.  _I hate him.  I hate him.  I love him.  I never want to see him again.  Why is he doing this?  I don’t care anymore.  I don’t want him to do it.  I don’t want to lose him.  I’ve lost him already.  It might turn out okay.  It might not.  This is all so...smegged....up!!!_

            He squeezed the throttle, pushing the bike on as if he could escape the turmoil in his head by outrunning it.  He was flying; the road so wet and the bike so fast that he’d lost all sensation of the ground beneath him and his mind far more occupied with the world inside his helmet than outside it.  Which is why, as he flung himself around the next corner, he didn’t realise that the tyres had lost contact with the asphalt until it was too late.  He only had time to think - _SHIT!_ – before the bike crashed onto its side, landing on top of him and dragging him across the road.  The air was knocked out of him with the impact, his ankle was pulled backwards and he had maybe two or three seconds to think – _SHIT!_ – again, before he and the bike slammed hard into a wall and everything went black.


	52. Chapter 52

            Lister surfaced slowly from a whirlpool of dark, fragmented dreams.  He drifted in and out of consciousness, trying to piece together what was real and what he’d imagined.  He recalled Rimmer’s declaration that he intended to pilot Wildfire into another reality and an image floated into his mind of a bright spinning vortex and Rimmer disappearing into it.  He remembered a car door opening and someone urging him to get inside.  He thought someone had said something about kidnapping him.  He remembered the world lurching on its axis, he remembered pain.  He thought he remembered hands on him, lifting him and carrying him somewhere he didn’t want to go.  He remembered screaming.  He fought to wake up.  He needed to know where he was.  Something had happened to him, something bad, but he couldn’t remember what.

            Eventually, he opened his eyes.  There was a soft pillow under his head and a blanket covering him.  He ached all over.  Someone said his name and he turned his head, expecting it to creak like the springs in an old bed.  There was an unfamiliar man beside him.  “David, are you awake?  Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.  His lips were dry.

“You’ve had an accident.  You’re in the hospital.  Are you in any pain?”

He was, but something else concerned him more.  “Thirsty,” he whispered.  Someone held a straw to his lips and he sucked gratefully.  The cold water hurt his head, but it revived him, it made the world clearer.  He could focus now on the room and the doctor sitting by his bed.  “Is that better?”

“Yes, thanks,” Lister replied.  His voice was still bleary, but it sounded like his own again.  

“Do you remember what happened?” the doctor asked him.

“I’m not sure,” Lister replied honestly, “I think I remember some stuff but it’s all kind of jumbled up.  Was I in a car accident?”

“Almost.  You took a spill off your bike.  A bad one, too.  You are very lucky to be alive, young man.”

“Am I hurt?”  He was certainly _hurting_ , but he was smart enough to know that was a blessing in disguise.  If he could feel the pain in all of his limbs, that meant he was still roughly in one piece, and so was his spine.

“Not drastically.  You’ve broken your ankle and cracked two of your ribs.  Your left shoulder was dislocated, but it’s been re-set.  It’ll be sore, but you probably won’t need a sling.  And naturally, you took quite a whack to the head.  At least you were sensible enough to put on a helmet before you went speeding about in torrential rain.”  Lister raised his head weakly and saw his left foot propped up, wrapped in plaster.

“How long have I been out?”

“Not long, just overnight.  We gave you a strong sedative when you came in; partly for the pain and partly because you were quite agitated and confused.”

“I was?”

“It’s fairly common after a head injury.  You didn’t know where you were or who anyone was.  Apparently you kicked up quite a fuss with the paramedics as they loaded you into the ambulance.  I don’t think you were in much of a condition to put up a fight, but there was a lot of shouting and screaming.  And I believe you bit someone.”

“Smeg, I’m so sorry.”

“Quite alright.  You weren’t yourself.”  

Lister looked away guiltily.  He may have been struggling with a concussion at the time, but he had a feeling that the threat of abduction had still been quite fresh in his mind – no wonder he’d flipped out when he’d found he was being bundled into a strange vehicle by people he didn’t know.  “You’ll probably be okay for discharge today once we’ve done some standard tests to check your concussion isn’t serious.  Your head scans looked fine last night and you seem fairly alert, so I’m not too concerned.  Is there someone we can call for you?  We couldn’t find any next of kin details with your ID and you’re going to need some support for a while - certainly until your ribs start to heal up.  You’re going to struggle getting anywhere on crutches at the moment.”

            Lister hesitated.  _Call him_ , his subconscious demanded, _he’ll take care of you.  Taylor can pick you up in the limo, take you back to the penthouse.  Mrs Jones will be in her element nursing you back to health.  Maybe when he sees you like this, injured and vulnerable, he’ll change his mind.  About everything.  Maybe this happened for a reason._ “I don’t have any next of kin,” he said, “But...I do have someone you can call.  The number is on my phone, if it’s not broken.”

“What’s the name?” the doctor raised his pen, ready to jot it down.

“It’s...” _Don’t do this.  You can’t go crawling back, begging him to look after you now.  Not after you yelled in his face to stay away from you just hours ago.  Who says he’d even be willing to help you anymore?  You don’t need him.  You sure as smeg don’t need any more complications.  Or any more false hope._  “...Petrovitch,” he said quickly, “Aleksander Petrovitch.”

            Lister spent the next few hours going through various tests to check that his brain function wasn’t impaired and that he was otherwise fit for discharge.  He was handed a supply of strong analgesics and a schedule of when to take them and when to start reducing the dose.  He was interviewed by a police officer, but as there was no alcohol in his blood samples and no proof that he’d been speeding at the time of the accident, it was nothing more than a tick-box exercise.  He was given a lecture on the perils of using motorbikes in hazardous conditions and a stack of insurance forms to sign.  Although he’d come through the crash reasonably unscathed, his Ducati was apparently wrecked beyond repair.  At one point, as he lay resting in his bed between appointments, an attendant came around with drinks and newspapers.  “You’re on the front page, kid,” he said with a wink, dropping a broadsheet into Lister’s lap.  Lister picked it up half-heartedly.  The image had been taken from the conference last night, showing the three of them taking questions.  The headline blared in bold capital letters: **‘ACE’ RIMMER TO MAKE HISTORY AS FIRST MAN TO DIMENSION JUMP!!!**

Lister skimmed the article, dourly noting the excessive use of words such as brave, noble and courageous, before handing it back to the attendant.  “You know what they say,” he remarked, “Today’s news is tomorrow’s fish wrapping.”

“Maybe so, but this is big stuff,” the attendant insisted eagerly, “I mean, come on.  You’ve got to be excited about this.  You’re the one who made it possible.”

“Thrilled,” Lister responded icily.  After the attendant had left, he closed his eyes and imagined screaming at the top of his lungs.

          When Petrovitch turned up in the afternoon to help him home, he was more than ready to leave despite the persistent pain.  “I feel terrible,” Petrovitch told him glumly as they waited for a nurse to bring a wheelchair for him, “I knew I should not have let you leave by yourself last night.”

“Don’t be daft, man.  If you’d insisted on coming with me, who’s to say we wouldn’t both be in hospital?  Or both dead, even?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Petrovitch rolled his eyes, “It all happens somewhere, right?”

“Don’t we know it.  Let’s just be grateful that in this reality only one of us got hurt, and it’s not that serious.”

“Okay.  It is a shame about your bike though.”

“I’ve got another one,” Lister shrugged with over-exaggerated nonchalance, “It’s no biggy.”  He didn’t want to think about what that Ducati had meant to him and he certainly didn’t want anyone, not even Aleks, to know how much its destruction pained him.  Petrovitch, unsurprisingly, didn’t look convinced.  “Let us hope,” he said tactfully, “That I can get you home today without further mishap.”

“What happened last night after I left?” Lister changed the subject, “Did I miss anything?”

“Not much.  A lot of talking and speculation mostly.  I told people you were exhausted after everything this week, which is why you had gone so early.  Rimmer did not look too happy after you left, but he hung around for a while and then left too.  I stayed late, drank a lot of champagne and managed to get one of the PR girls to give me her phone number.”

“I’m glad someone had a good night.”

“What happened outside?  Rimmer came back and said something to Taylor, but I didn’t hear any of it.”

“I ran into my stalker.  Turns out it’s nothing to worry about, just an old friend of Rimmer’s who got nosy and overstepped the mark.”

“Well, that is one thing less to worry about,” Petrovitch eyed Lister’s broken ankle nervously, “Although I am still concerned how you will manage at home.  I wish you would stay with me.”

“It’s going to be ages before I’m properly back on my feet again.  I can’t ask you to take time out of work to babysit me until then; I’ve got to just get on with it.  Besides, I don’t want to be a spare wheel when you start to bring your new girlfriend over.”

“I believe in putting bros before hoes, David.”    

“Look, I’ll be okay once I’m back at the flat.  I’ll set up camp on the sofa, that way I won’t have to move around too much to get to everything.”

“And if you fall down and break your ribs again?”

“I won’t.”

“Everything happens somewhere,” Petrovitch reminded him dryly.  

            “Okay,” Lister acquiesced, too tired and in too much pain to keep arguing, “How about this?  I’ll call Petersen, see if I can stay with him for a couple of weeks until my ribs are on the mend and I’m steadier on the crutches.”

“I am not sure that Olaf is the most responsible nursemaid I can think of.”

“It’ll be fine.  All he has to do is pick me up off the floor if I fall over.”

“It may end up the other way around.  You know what he is like.”

“Well then, we can keep an eye on each other, can’t we?”

“I suppose that could work,” Petrovitch shrugged amiably.

“Have you got a better plan?” Lister asked.  

Petrovitch looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before saying reluctantly, “No.”

Lister - who had a very good idea what Petrovitch had been thinking in those brief seconds of hesitation and was eternally grateful to him for being supportive and not voicing those thoughts - had never wanted to hug the big Russian beanpole more.

            As soon as they were back at the apartment building, Petrovitch pushed his wheelchair into the lift and they headed to his flat.  While Aleks retrieved his bag from under the bed and started to help him pack, Lister retrieved his phone from the hospital bag so he could call Petersen.  The handset was badly scratched and cracked from the accident, but it was still working.  When he turned it on, he saw there were a string of missed calls and messages from Rimmer.  He paused, then wiped them all from the memory and called Petersen.  He had spoken to him just a few days ago, when the fuss over his breakthrough had started to make the news and the Dane had been keen for them to get together then, so at least his call wasn’t coming completely out of the blue.

            After many rings, Petersen answered with his customary croak, “ _Ja?_ ”

“Hey, man,” Lister said gently, in case his hangover was bad, “How ya doin’?”

“Davey!  I’m good, I’m good.  Saw you on the TV last night.  At least...I think it was you....”

“It was me,” Lister confirmed, smiling, “How did I look?”

“Like you wanted to puke into the front row.  But you did fine.”

“Cheers.  Listen, I have a favour to ask you.”

“Ask away.”

“Can I come and stay with you for a little while?  I’m kind of bashed up and I need a wing man.”

“Of course, you are always welcome, my friend!  It will be good to see you!  You can stay in your old room – I turned it into a bar, but we can move the kegs off the bed easy enough.”

“That’s great.  Thanks, man.”

“Listen, it’s no problem.  It looks like I’m stuck here until next year anyway.  I got my results back this week – failed again – can you believe it?”

“No.” Lister tried to make his response sound sincerely outraged instead of sarcastic.  He didn’t think he’d ever known Petersen to attend a lecture in all the time they’d roomed together.  

“I’m thinking I might switch to a catering course, what do you think?”

“We’ll talk about it,” Lister said diplomatically, “Is it okay if I come tonight?”

“Sure.  Is Aleks coming too?”

“You coming?” Lister asked him, looking up from the phone.  

Petrovitch considered it briefly, “No, I think not.  I will only have to fly back here tomorrow.  And I can take your sick note in for you on Monday that way.”

“He’s out,” Lister confirmed into the phone.

“Tell that Russian bore he works too hard.”

“If he is saying something rude,” Petrovitch chimed in from across the room, “Tell him to pull his head out of his _zhopa_ and open a textbook for once in his life.”

“He's saying he’s sorry, he’ll visit soon,” Lister translated sweetly.

“No, he isn’t,” Petersen replied cheerfully, “But never mind.  We can get drunk without him.  It’ll be good to see you.”

“You too.  I’ll see you later.”

“Laters, Davey,” Petersen hung up, but not before Lister had winced internally at his parting phrase.  It had sounded way too much like something else.

            

It took him a lot longer to get back to Saturn than he’d expected.  He’d become so used to zipping through either in first-class or on the RimmerJet that he’d forgotten the drudgery of queuing for tickets, waiting for a shuttle with an available seat and then hanging around in check-in.  When you added the hassle and discomfort of finding taxis at either end that could take him in his wheelchair, the whole journey was a miserable affair.  When he finally made it back to campus and his old dorm, he’d never been so relieved.  Petersen came out and helped him inside, expressing shock when he saw the wheelchair.  “You weren’t kidding when you said you were bashed up, huh?” he remarked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.  It’s my ribs that are the problem.  Once they stop hurting so much, I won’t need the chair to get around.” 

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, easing Lister out of the chair and onto the sofa.  

“It’s a long story,” Lister muttered.  

“Does it have something to do with Rimmer?” Petersen was aware of their split, but he was also clearly uncomfortable about their continued association.

“I suppose so,” Lister admitted, “But only in the broadest sense.” 

He saw Petersen narrow his eyes and stepped in to clarify the matter swiftly, “Look, relax, man.  I came off my bike, that’s all.  It’s not like he had me beaten up.  I’m practically the company mascot now, he’s not going to put me in hospital.”

“So how was he involved?”

“How much do you remember of that conference last night?”

“Bits and pieces,” Petersen shrugged.

“Do you remember Rimmer announcing that he intends to venture off into another dimension, likely to never return?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, let’s just say I was a little upset.”

“Were you drinking?” Petersen asked sternly.

“No, just distracted.”

“There’s your problem then.  If you’d had a drink, you’d have calmed down and not ended up in a wheelchair.”

“Your logic is always infallible,” Lister told him acerbically.  

“Speaking of which...” Petersen stood up, gathered up a couple of cans and tossed Lister one.  He pondered for a second the risks of mixing alcohol with strong painkillers and decided he didn’t care.  If nothing else, it would ensure that he slept well tonight and, after the week he’d had, that seemed like a very good thing. 


	53. Chapter 53

            Lister spent the next few days resting as much as possible, to give his body time to heal.  As well as his more serious injuries, he was a mass of bruises from where he’d hit the ground and then been crushed by the weight of the bike.  It was starting to come home to him just how fortunate he’d been.  If he hadn’t had his leathers on, he probably would have ended up with scars all down his left side where he’d been dragged along the road; and if he’d landed differently, or hit that wall at a different angle, he could well have broken his neck or shattered his skull, even with the helmet on.

            He tried not to think about Rimmer.  Being here on Saturn made it easier and he was glad he’d decided to come back.  If he’d stayed at home, he knew he would have spent hours staring out of the window at the Rimmer Building.  Here with Petersen, cocooned in his old life and old bed, he could detach himself and almost pretend that Arnold Rimmer - and everything that had happened since he’d met him -was all part of some crazy dream.

That illusion was shattered the Tuesday after he arrived, as he sat watching afternoon TV on the couch with Petersen.  His phone rang and when he picked it up from the coffee table, wincing from the pain as he did so, he froze at the name on the screen.  Petersen clocked his reaction and observed his turmoil with concern.  “Are you going to answer it?” he asked cautiously.

“I don’t know,” Lister replied nervously.  It rang once more, then went to voicemail.  

“Apparently not then,” Petersen remarked, turning back to the TV.  Lister had no time to relax before the phone rang again. He rubbed anxiously at his face.  

“What do I do?”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”

“Then ignore it.”

“He _is_ still my boss.”

“He’ll leave a message if it’s urgent.”

“You’re right.” Lister rejected the call, put the phone back down on the table and turned away from it.  Moments later it rang again.

            “For smeg’s sake!” he snatched it up and answered it, “Hello?”

“David, where the hell are you?” Rimmer demanded furiously.

“I’m staying with a friend,” he said evasively. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what I’ve been through in the last few days?” Rimmer continued angrily, “I’ve been trying to get hold of you since Friday night.  I’ve had no answer from your mobile or your flat.  No reply to any emails.  No reply to any messages.  Finally, I gave up and sent for you to come to my office this morning and got told you’d been signed off work for at least 8 weeks.  I go to HR only to find out you’ve apparently had an accident that nobody thought to inform me about.”

“Rimmer...”

“I go over to the hospital and they tell me you were discharged days ago.  So I head to your flat, knock on the door, no answer.  Finally Taylor and I broke the door down, expecting to find you in a heap on the floor, only to find the place empty!”

“You broke down my door???”  Lister exclaimed.  Next to him, Petersen raised an eyebrow.

“I was out of my mind with worry!”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because,” Lister told him as calmly as he could manage, “I don’t have any contractual obligation to check in with the CEO when I phone in sick.”

“This is not about work.”

“Then you shouldn’t be calling me!  We had a deal, remember?  You certainly shouldn’t be breaking into my flat!”

“You left me no choice.”

“You promised me,” Lister told him plaintively, “You swore to me this would stop.”

“You can’t expect me not to react to the news that you were nearly killed!”

“Don’t be melodramatic.  I’m _fine_.”

“You are not _fine_.  I’ve seen your doctor’s note.  Where are you?”

“I told you.  I’m staying with a friend.”

“Where?”

“None of your smegging business.”

“I need to see you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to talk to you properly on Friday.”

“We have nothing left to talk about.”

“I disagree.  I think we have a lot to talk about.”

            Lister slumped back, exhausted and his ribs twanged with pain.  He was out of patience.  “Rimmer,” he said sharply, “I am not in the mood for this.  I am not arguing with you.  I am not telling you where I am.  And I am not discussing this any further.  If you want to talk, I will be back at work when I’m ready.  Until then, please, just leave me alone.”  He hung up the phone and resisted the urge to throw it across the room.  

“You okay?” Petersen asked.

“That arrogant, controlling, ridiculous _git_ just wrecked my front door because I wouldn’t return his calls!” Lister fumed.

“Is he going to fix it?” Petersen asked pragmatically.

“I don’t know,” Lister realised he had no idea, he’d hung up without asking what Rimmer intended to do about the gaping hole where his door had been, “He smegging well better had do!”

“Are you going to tell the police?” Petersen asked seriously.

“What?” Lister looked at him, shocked.

“The man broke into your home, David.  That’s kind of a big deal.  What did he intend to do when he found you?”

“No, no,” Lister shook his head, “No, it’s not like that, man.  He was worried.  He found out about the accident and wanted to check I was okay.  He freaked out when he couldn’t get hold of me, that’s all.”

“Kind of an extreme reaction...”

“He’s an extreme kind of guy,” Lister smiled ruefully, his temper starting to wane. 

“He’s a nutbag,”

“But I keep telling you, he wouldn’t hurt me.”

“How can you be so sure?”  Lister pondered this.

“I suppose,” he said finally, “Because he would have done it by now.”

            Petersen let it go.  “You should call Petrovitch,” he said, “Get him to check on your door for you when he gets back from work.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lister agreed, “I’m not calling Rimmer back, no way.”

“Tell me,” Petersen asked curiously, as they settled back to the television, “Was it really worth it, all the crap you’ve put up with from that guy?”

“Olaf,” Lister sighed, “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

            They spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled on the couch watching student TV, just like old times.  When they started getting hungry, Petersen called for a curry without leaving the sofa.  A little after seven, their doorbell rang.  “That’ll be the food,” Petersen hauled himself up reluctantly and trudged to the door.  Lister barely looked up from the TV until he heard him start swearing vehemently in Danish.  Lister could only make out every other word, but Petersen was clearly unhappy.  “What’s going on?” he called over, perplexed.  Petersen turned to him, his face red with anger.

“It’s for you,” he said in English.  He didn’t need to say any more.  Lister could guess.

            He struggled to his feet and limped to the door using his crutches.  He could only manage a few steps with them at the moment, but it was easier than using the wheelchair in the cramped space of the apartment.  Rimmer was standing at the bottom of the steps with the limo behind him.  Taylor, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed.  “How did you find me?” he asked coldly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rimmer replied awkwardly.

“Answer me!”  

            With a guilty expression and a certain degree of reluctance, Rimmer slid his mobile out of his pocket and shook it meaningfully.  Lister leaned against the doorframe for support.  He was so angry he couldn’t find a way to express it and, in his current frail condition, the surge of emotion simply drained him.  “I can’t believe this.  You’ve done it again.  Even after I _expressly_ told you...”

“Don’t give me that,” Rimmer smiled tentatively, “We both know that you’re not much better when it comes to doing what you’re told.”

“You wipe that smile off your face.  This is so not cool, man.  I made it clear to you when all this began that tracking my phone was not acceptable.”

“I never made any promises.”

“Dave,” Petersen growled next to him, “You want me to show this guy how we deal with stalkers in Denmark?”

“Much as I would enjoy that,” Lister admitted bitterly, “I think you’d better stay out of it, Olaf.”

“Hey, nobody messes with my pal, no matter how rich he is.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, man, but he’s got superhuman strength and an armed bodyguard.”  Lister threw a withering glance in Rimmer’s direction, “And Mr Rimmer has never believed in fighting fair.  ‘You get to the top by whatever means possible and use whatever means necessary to stay there’, isn’t that what you said to me once?”

            Rimmer gave him a pained look, “I just needed to know you were okay.”    

“You had no right!  It’s nothing to do with you!  I’m not your....” Lister reigned himself back, remembering their audience.  “I’m not your problem anymore,” he finished, more calmly.  

“Come home with me,” Rimmer pleaded, “You can’t tell me this oaf is taking proper care of you.  And there are some things we need to discuss.”

“What about everything you said to me last week?  You swore that once you knew I was safe you would back off.  I’m assuming your good friend Mrs Robinson is no longer a threat?”

“I had words with Marlena.  She won’t bother you again.  She was very embarrassed and – I hope – very ashamed of her behaviour, but she honestly never meant to frighten you.  She asked me to pass on her sincere apologies.”

“I don’t give a smeg how sorry she is.  She’s just another spoilt brat with an overblown sense of entitlement who thinks she can treat the universe like her personal playground.  Just like you.”  

The words were cutting and Lister almost regretted them when he saw Rimmer’s expression, but he didn’t take them back.  It was true.  It just meant that he was an utter fool for still loving the bastard anyway.  Rimmer must have seen some faint light of that thought in his face, because he stepped forward hopefully.  “Forget about Marlena,” he told him, “I said I would back off when you were safe.  As far as I’m concerned right now, you are not safe.  You’re badly injured...”

“I’m okay!”

“You are nowhere near okay and you won’t be for weeks yet.  You shouldn’t even be using those damn crutches in your condition.  You should be sitting down.”

“If you hadn’t taken it upon yourself to come over here, then I still would be!” Lister responded indignantly.

            “Please,” Rimmer held out a hand, “At least talk to me.  Hear what I have to say.  We’ll go for a drive, get some things straight between us.”

“Nothing is ever straight with you,” Lister told him.

“If nothing else,” Rimmer pressed, “You can go to sleep tonight knowing that whatever decision you’ve made, you had all the facts when you made it.  Because right now, you don’t.”  Lister looked him over, debating.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that if he got into that damn car he’d be climbing straight back into the mess he’d done his hardest to walk away from.  After he’d been through so much pain and misery to get to where he was now, could he really risk taking a step backwards?

“We can’t carry on like this.  Not if we’re going to keep working together,” Rimmer reminded him.  Lister faltered slightly.  That much was true.  He caved.

            “Okay,” he said, defeated.  “We can talk.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Petersen interjected boldly, “Whatever he has to say, he can say it here.”

“Actually,” Lister said wearily, “He can’t.  Unfortunately, there are certain legal restrictions involved which mean if we’re going to talk properly, it’s going to have to be in private.”  Petersen shook his head in dismay.

“David,” he said, “Why would you ever agree to sign anything this jerk put in front of you?”  Lister caught Rimmer’s eye and smiled wistfully.

“There were perks,” he replied simply.

            Rimmer helped him into the back of the limo while Taylor loaded up his wheelchair.  As they drove away, Rimmer looked him over anxiously.  “You’re still in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”

“I can take some more tablets soon.”

“I can’t believe you were irresponsible enough to go out on your bike in that weather.  You should have waited for Taylor to take you home.”

“I’ve been out in worse weather than that before.  Sometimes accidents just happen,” he eyed Rimmer pointedly, “You can’t control everything.”

“It was an unnecessary risk.”

“Is this why you came here?  To nag me?  Or are you just pissed because, despite all the fuss you made, it turned out that the bike you got me actually wasn’t any safer than mine after all?”

“Are you insane?  If you’d been driving that thing on Friday you’d have probably been killed instantly!”

“You don’t know that!”

“You don’t know I’m wrong.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” Lister snapped, “The Ducati is just scrap metal now, so I’m going to have to start using my old bike again, whether you like it or not.”

“Over my dead body.”

“It’s a bit late for that.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.  Better yet, I’ll buy you a car.  Four wheels, roof, airbags.  In fact, forget the car, I’ll buy you a smegging tank, if necessary.  Just don’t do this to me again!”

“You’re not buying me anything except a new front door!”

“It’s under control.  Although if you’d answered any of my messages, it wouldn’t have come to that.”

“It didn’t occur to you to check with my neighbours?  Or the building manager?”

“No,” Rimmer replied sulkily, “I was frantic.”  Lister looked at him, exasperated.  But also just the tiniest bit pleased.  

“You silly smeghead,” he told him.  Despite everything, it was nice being back in the cosy luxury of the limo.

            _Here we go_ , his subconscious sneered.  _I knew this would happen.  Five minutes together and already you’re sliding back into his web, over-analysing everything he’s saying, daring to hope that any of it means anything.  Snap out of it, kid.  You didn’t hit your head hard enough to justify this level of craziness._

“So are we going to talk?” he asked, pulling some fragments of emotional armour back into place.  

“We’ll go to my office.  That way I can make sure you have everything you need to be comfortable.”

“I take it this is going to be a long talk then?”

“That,” Rimmer said, “Depends entirely on you.”


	54. Chapter 54

            

            Once they arrived at the Rimmer Building on Saturn, Lister was helped back into his wheelchair and Rimmer rolled him into the elevator.  They headed upwards and Lister was surprised when they stepped out onto the floor he remembered from his previous visit here.  “We’re not going to your office?” he asked, as Rimmer pushed him through into the shining glass boardroom.  It was filled with the warm lava-like glow of the setting sun.  “I like it in here,” Rimmer replied easily.  “Besides, it’s where we first met.  Seems appropriate.”  Lister looked down at the empty space beneath him and wished he hadn’t.  “Fair enough,” he said reluctantly.  He remembered what Rimmer had told him about this room, ‘ _it pays to have people on the back foot_ ’ he’d said.  Lister wondered if that had anything to do with choosing this room for their talk.

            “So, come on then,” he told him briskly, scrabbling for some control of the situation, “What’s so important?  What is it I have to know?”

“I want you back,” Rimmer told him frankly.  Lister’s fingers tightened on the armrest of his chair.  He couldn’t decide if he wanted to dance for joy, or back away growling.  If he was honest, part of him had been hoping for this the whole way here, but he also knew he couldn’t face getting hurt by this man again.

“Why?” he asked guardedly, “It’s not like there’s a shortage of weirdos who would be more than happy to take my place.”

“I’m not interested in anyone else.  I want you.”

“You know why it can’t work between us.  Is this just because I was the one who ended it and you can’t stand that?  Is it because you can’t bear to feel like you lost control, even that one little bit?”

“No,” Rimmer said firmly, “It’s because I love you.”

            Lister felt like the universe had suddenly ground to a halt.  He waited for this to sink in.  _Oh.  Oh my.  He said it.  He actually said it.  Maybe I did hit my head hard.  Maybe I’m in a coma and all of this is a dream._  “If you’re saying this just so I’ll go back to how things were...” he started to say cautiously.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me now?”

“Because I didn’t know it until a few days ago.” Rimmer told him.  

He sat down on the edge of the table opposite Lister and reached over to take one of his limp hands in his strong grasp.  The light behind him made a halo of his curls.  “I was devastated when you left me.  I’ve never known misery like it.  I knew you were always different from the others, but I still couldn’t rationalise why I missed you so damn much.  It was only when you told me the other day that someone was following you, that it hit me.  That night I couldn’t rest, thinking you might be in danger.  In the end, I went down to your apartment and stood guard with the security team.  I was there every night.  It was the only way I could feel at peace, knowing that I was there if you needed me.  I’ve never been in love before.  I didn’t know what it felt like.  Now I do.  It’s not just that I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.  It was that I didn’t _want_ to go on living if anything happened to you.  I could see no point in a future where you were gone.  That’s when I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lister asked, stunned.

“Because I wanted to respect your decision to leave me and I thought I’d blown my chance.  But then, during our fight after the conference, when you said that you’d left because you felt you had no choice, because I didn’t feel the same way about you that you did about me...I saw hope.  I tried to tell you that night.  I came looking for you, ready to tell you everything...”

“...But Marlena found me first,” Lister finished for him, holding back a howl of frustration.  If the woman had been standing in front of him at that moment, he’d have been sorely tempted to give her a serious kick up the arse; even with his broken foot.

“Yes.”

            He was on the verge of falling into Rimmer’s arms, ready to be swept back into the glorious madness that was the two of them together, but his bruised heart was still holding back.  “I love you too,” he said haltingly, “I do.  But it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t give you what you want.”

“The only thing I want is you.”

“But that’s not quite true, is it?” Lister reminded him sorrowfully, “You also need the playroom.”

“I always thought you enjoyed our sessions in the playroom,” Rimmer said, surprised.

“I did.  I mean...smegging hell, I’ve never enjoyed anything so much in my life,” he admitted bashfully, “And I honestly don’t care if you get your kicks by tying me up, or caning me, or whatever.  But you need someone who can satisfy your craving for control full-time, someone who can give you the total power and authority that you need, in and out of the playroom, without argument.  And we both know that I can’t do that.  I can’t live that way.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Rimmer insisted, shaking his head.  

“Have I?  I know how strict you were with your other submissives,” Lister told him, “You cut me a hell of a lot of slack, and I’m grateful for that.  But even so, I still couldn’t behave to the standard you wanted.  There’s no point denying it.”

“David,” Rimmer studied his face, “I’ve tried telling you this before.  I don’t want to turn you into some obedient sex-doll, devoid of personality.  Your spark, your attitude, your _shadow_ ,” he lightly touched Lister’s forehead, “are what make you so irresistible.  I love the fact that you challenge me. I love never knowing how you’re going to react, or what you’re going to say.  Do you realise that you are the only person, in this whole crazy cosmos, who actually _argues_ with me?”

“Seriously?” Lister looked at him, askew.

“Not only that.  Do you know that you are the only person since I made my fortune with the solid-a-gram invention, who has ever actually dared to _insult_ me?”

“And...that’s a good thing?”

“It’s an amazing thing.  You’re the only person I’ve ever met who genuinely doesn’t give a damn about who I am.  You’re never afraid to tell me what you think of me.  That’s why I need you in my life.”  

“So, you _like_ it when I’m a stubborn little scrat who won’t behave?” Lister asked, confused.  

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Rimmer smiled, “Sometimes you drive me up the wall.  But it keeps things interesting.  And it makes those moments when I do get you in my clutches intoxicatingly hot.  When you let me take control of you, it feels like an incredible privilege...and an extraordinary triumph.”  

“So, after all this time, it turns out what you really want is a non-submissive submissive.” Lister smiled faintly at the irony.

“I’m not asking you to be my submissive,” Rimmer told him gravely, sliding off the table and getting down on one knee. “I’m asking you to marry me.”  

_This isn’t a coma.  I must have died in that accident._

“What?”  Lister responded flatly, sure he was dreaming this.  

“Marry me, David.”

“Are you serious?”

“Totally.  I don’t ever want to lose you again.  I want you bound to me forever.  Essentially, marriage is just another contract,” Rimmer reached up and touched his face tenderly, “But it’s the _ultimate_ contract.”

           Lister struggled to form a cohesive train of thought.  Right now too many feelings were fighting for control of his brain.  The overwhelming sense of the surreal was not helped by the fact he was sitting in an apparently floating wheelchair way above a busy city street.

“I’m only twenty years old,” he said feebly.  

“I know.  But you’ll be twenty-one in just a few months, then the keys to the galaxy are all yours.  Besides, I know I’m never going to find anyone else like you.  And come on,” Rimmer smiled smugly, “It’s not like you’re ever going to meet another me.  I’m a fairly unique specimen if I say so myself.”  _Fair point_ , Lister conceded to himself.

“But what happens when I’m eighty-six?  Are you still going to look the same?”

“I can adjust my programme so we age at the same rate.  It’s easily done.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do it for _us_.”

“What about when I die?”

“What happens then is up to you.  There are options.  It will be your decision.”

“What about kids?” Lister realised he was rambling now, spilling out every question he had at once, but he couldn’t organise his thoughts enough to stop.  

“You want them?” Rimmer asked.

“Well, yeah.”

“So we’ll have them.”

“You mean adopt?”

“Not necessarily,” Rimmer shrugged cagily, “I happen to know of certain advances that are currently under development.”

“Seriously?  You mean, _we_ could actually...?”

“In theory.”

            Lister stared out of the window in shock at this revelation.  The only time he’d ever truly thought about children had been the night he’d first met Kochanski.  He’d had a vision of two little boys in matching outfits with his dark eyes and Kochanski’s pinball smile.  Now in his mind’s eye that fantasy swirled and evolved into something new.  Now he saw two slightly different children, with bright hazel eyes and his mischievous grin.  “Wow,” he whispered, dazed.  _Focus, damn it-_ his subconscious raged. _Now is not the moment to start picking out imaginary baby clothes!_

            He gave himself a mental shake and turned back to Rimmer.  “Are you certain this isn’t just a novelty thing?” he asked him, concerned. “Three years from now are you going to turn around and tell me you can’t put up with me anymore?  Am I going to find out you’ve been sneaking out and whipping people on the sly?”

“I’m not saying I can give up the things that excite me,” Rimmer told him frankly, “But I’m suggesting that we engage in those activities as true partners.  Not master and slave.  You will never have to call me sir.  You will never have to worry about what you’re supposed to say or do, because you’ll only ever have to be yourself.  And, I promise you, you will never need to learn a safe word.  Because the only one you’ll ever need is ‘no’.  You told me once you didn’t want your life to be a role-playing game.  Well, neither do I.  Not anymore.”

“You just want to hang onto the props,” Lister teased.  

“You can do what you like, say what you like, eat what you like,” Rimmer told him.  “As long as I can still tie you up and have my way with you from time to time, I’ll be as happy as a bunny in the genetically-modified carrot fields of Triton.”  

“I think I can live with that,” Lister giggled.

“So...is that a yes?” Rimmer probed cautiously.  

            Lister was about to say yes, but his subconscious stepped in one last time and took control of his mouth.  “Does this mean you’re going to step down from piloting Wildfire?”  The smile faded from Rimmer’s face.

“No,” he said quietly, “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“David, this is the biggest opportunity of my life.  And death.  I can’t walk away from that.”

“So you’re asking me to marry you, knowing there’s a distinct possibility that eighteen months from now you’re going to vanish into another reality and I’ll never see you again?!”

“I still have faith we can engineer a return journey somehow.”

“I’m going to need more than faith. A _lot_ more.”

“Listen, I know you’re still angry that I didn’t tell you about this before...”

“I’m angry because you let me spend months working on a project that you knew would eventually end with you leaving me forever.  You know, when I was in hospital, someone said to me that I should be excited because I was the person who’d made this possible.  But honestly, the idea that I’m responsible for giving you the ticket for this trip just makes me feel sick.”

“You know how important this is.  How can I give up the chance to break through mankind’s last frontier?”

“Easily.  Tell everyone you changed your mind.  _I’ll_ tell them if you like.”

“And miss out on the chance to be married to Captain Ace Rimmer, the greatest explorer of all time?”

“Married is fine.  Not widowed.”

“Better than nothing.”

“No, it smegging well is not!  I’ve seen the papers, and I get it – the whole ‘Ace’ thing is cute.  I’m sure Walker got a big hamper from PR for that little gem.  But I don’t give a toss about Ace Rimmer.  I love Arnold Rimmer.”

“ _Captain_ Ace Rimmer,” he reminded him earnestly.

            Lister narrowed his eyes.  Suddenly this all made sense.  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” he fumed, “This all comes down to you and your ridiculous family feud!”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.  This is your way of having the last word, isn’t it?  It doesn’t matter how many missions John clocks up, or how young Frank is when he gets that promotion.  None of them will ever be able to top this.  You’ll have won.”

“It’s an added bonus,” Rimmer admitted grudgingly.

“You’re willing to throw away everything you have, including me, just so you can show up your smegging brothers?!  You know, you could be the bigger man.  You could just walk away from this sick game your parents have been forcing you to play since you were born.  You don’t have to prove anything to them!”  

“Maybe not,” Rimmer told him calmly, “But I still have plenty to prove to myself.  And I can’t walk away from that.” 

“Well, that doesn’t really leave me much choice then, does it?” Lister said stiffly.

“David...”

“I’m just going to have to go with you.”

            Rimmer straightened up and squeezed his hands tightly.  “Absolutely not.  I forbid it.”

“Oh, so Ace Rimmer doesn’t want to share the glory?”

“Don’t try to bait me.  This is not up for discussion.”

“If it’s not too dangerous for you, then it’s not too dangerous for me.”

“That’s not true.  I’m a hologram.  I’m practically indestructible and I’m already dead.  It’s an acceptable risk.  You, on the other hand, are twenty years old...”

“Twenty-one in just a few months,” Lister reminded him.

“...And you are _alive_.  That is _not_ an acceptable risk.  Besides, if things go wrong I’ll feel much better knowing that my star employee is on the ground fixing things.  I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

            Lister scowled at him and Rimmer took his face in his hands, “Look at me.  I know I’m asking you to make a difficult choice.  But if the worst happens and I only have eighteen months left of this life - such as it is - then I want to spend them married to you.  I don’t want us to waste a single second, because that might be all we ever have.  I would rather have that short time together than spend eternity wondering how it would have been.  Wouldn’t you?”  Lister felt his eyes well up.  He was still angry, _livid_ , that Rimmer had put him in this position.  But...

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he protested unhappily.

“Maybe you won’t.  Maybe everything will work out fine and we’ll live happily ever after.  But if you don’t take that chance, then you end up losing me either way.  And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather that this ended with love in our hearts and rings on our fingers than with tears and regret today.  Be brave, Spanners.”  He wiped a tear from Lister’s cheek.  “Take a shot at happiness.”

          _Don’t be a fool_ , Lister’s subconscious snarled.  _How many times are you going to let this man break your heart?  Walk away.  Move on.  It’s the only sane thing to do._   Lister wiped his eyes, steeling himself.  It was true.  The sensible thing would be to cut all ties now.  Quit his job.  Move away.  Build another life somewhere.  Maybe go back to Earth and buy a farm.  Get a sheep and a cow and breed horses.  Start a family and never, ever pick up another newspaper in case he saw the name Arnold Rimmer.  That was the only way to protect himself.  That was the only way he could be sure of a happy ever after.  But he didn’t care.

            “Yes,” he sniffed, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“You will?” Rimmer beamed.

“Yes.  I must be smegging mad, but yes.”

“Oh, Dave!” Rimmer kissed him fiercely and pulled him into a tight hug, “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me!”

“That’s nice,” Lister squeaked, “But my ribs are still broken.”

“Ooops!” Rimmer let go of him, “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay.  It’s just about time for my medication anyway.”

“You take care of yourself.  We need you back on your feet in tip-top condition.  We have a wedding to plan.”

“I guess so,” Lister laughed, breathlessly.  _I’m getting married.  I’m getting married to_ _Arnold_ _Rimmer.  This can’t be real._

“You okay?” Rimmer cocked his head to one side, looking him over with concern.

“Yeah.  Still wondering if this is a drug-induced hallucination, but okay.”

“You know what I’m looking forward to the most?” Rimmer stroked his hand, “Going to sleep with my fiancé tonight, in _our_ bed, for the very first time.”

“ _Our_ bed,” Lister mused, delighted, “That does sound good.  But before you get too excited, I have a confession to make.”

“What’s that?”

“I snore like a pig.”

“I know, baby.  I could hear you from the next room.  Sometimes from the next _floor_.”

“It’s nice that you’re going into this with your eyes open.”

“Eyes open and ear plugs in.”

“How romantic.”

            Rimmer leaned in and kissed him, “I love you, Dave.”

“I love you too.  _Broken ribs!  Broken ribs!_ ”

“Sorry.”


	55. Chapter 55

Sixteen Months later

 

“Happy Anniversary.” Rimmer clinked his champagne glass against Lister’s as they sat together in the dining room of the penthouse.

“I cannot believe how fast that’s gone,” Lister shook his head.

“Well, it was a short engagement.” 

“It would have been even shorter if you hadn’t insisted on making such a fuss.”

“I believe in doing these things properly.  Besides, did you really want to get married in a wheelchair?”

“Don’t try and pretend this was about me.  You just like showing off.”

“The media were expecting a performance.”

“You didn’t have to provide it.”

“Look, when the solar system’s most eligible billionaire gets hitched to the most celebrated engineer, it’s bound to cause a bit of a stir.  We would have never got away with having a quiet affair.  At least the attention was on our terms.”

“I know, I know.”

“And I didn’t create nearly as much of a ‘performance’ as your good friend Petersen.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.  I thought it was funny.”

“Well, the Colonel and Mrs Luxwood-Brown certainly didn’t.”

“I did warn you the champagne fountain might not be a good idea.”

“I’ll remember that for the launch party.”

“He’s calmed down a lot.  He goes to AA meetings now and everything.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, but I‘d rather not take the risk, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Whatever you say.”

          Rimmer sipped his drink and changed the subject, “You know there was something I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

“Mmm?”          

“I went down to inspect Wildfire yesterday.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“You were in a meeting.  I noticed that _somebody_ has installed a passenger seat.”

“Really?” Lister asked innocently.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

“Hey, I’m just a gearhead, man.  Not an internal decorator.”

“We’ve been over this, David.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“You’ve made that very clear,” Lister replied evenly, slowly twisting his wedding ring round and round on his finger.  It was made of polished rhodium and the inside of it was engraved with a chain motif.  Rimmer had a matching one.  He liked to refer to them as ‘the tiniest handcuffs in the universe’.

“Obviously not clear enough.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about it.  All of our simulations so far suggest there’s no reason why a human passenger couldn’t accompany you.”

“You’ve read Petrovitch’s report.  When crossing dimensions Wildfire hones in on the connection between the pilot and their dimensional counterpart.  Having two people on board complicates things, the computer doesn’t know who it should concentrate on – there’s no knowing what might happen.”

“I know.”

“And we’re pretty positive now that we can code the navigation system so that we can accurately identify different dimensions.  There’s no reason to think I won’t be coming home.”

“I know.”

“But?”

“I just wish I could be certain, that’s all.”

“Nothing’s ever certain, baby.  For all you know I could tailspin the jet into the sun next time I go out.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Even if I agreed to let you come with me,” Rimmer pointed out, “It’s not like you could stop things going wrong if there was a problem.”

“Maybe not.  But at least we’d be together.”

“That’s sweet, Dave, but I’d much rather know that you were safe with your whole young life ahead of you, than have you sacrifice yourself in a pointless romantic gesture.”

            Lister finished his glass of champagne, “Look, it’s our anniversary.  I don’t want to fight about this, okay?” he said, his voice clipped.  “I certainly don’t want to think about the worst case scenario.  Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

“That,” Rimmer reached over and took his hand, “Is something I think we can both agree on.”

            The day of the launch came around all too quickly.  As the galaxy’s media began to crowd around the specially built test base, Rimmer began the rounds of interviews while Lister dedicated himself to running every last minute test he could think of on Wildfire.  

            As zero hour approached, Rimmer slipped away from the throng and made his way down into the engineering bays.  Lister was huddled over a row of diagnostic screens, making the final tweaks and adjustments.  “There you are.  You’re still working?”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Lister replied firmly, not looking up.  Rimmer slid an arm around his waist and gently pulled him away from the computers.  

“There’s nothing else you can do now.  Come on.  It’s time to go.  T minus thirty minutes and counting.”

“I think I’m going to stay here.  I need to keep an eye on everything.”

“No, you don’t.  The tech crew can take it from here.”

“I’d just feel better doing it myself,” Lister insisted.

“What is it you like to say to me?  ‘You can’t control everything?’” Rimmer reminded him teasingly.  

“Today,” Lister replied without cracking a smile, “I’m going to have a damn good try.”

“Dave, you’re my husband _and_ a major player in the development of this mission.  People are going to expect to see you there to share in our moment of glory.  Besides,” he asked, wounded, “don’t you want to see me off?”  

          Lister looked down.  He had to take several deep breaths before he could look back into Rimmer’s eyes.  He shook his head.  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice catching.  “I’m proud of you, you know I am.  And I can accept that you feel you have to do this.  I can even accept that I can’t go with you.  But I don’t think I can watch you go.  I can’t stand there and smile for the cameras and pretend I’m happy about it.”

“Baby,” Rimmer cupped his face, “It’s going to be fine.  It’s only twenty-four hours, we’ll be together again before you know it.”

“I know,” Lister took his hands and squeezed them tight, “And I know the last thing you need right now is me freaking out on you.  But I can’t help it.  It’s not even that I think anything’s going to go wrong.  I just hate the thought of you being so, so, far away from me.  I hate the idea of you being somewhere I can’t reach you.  It just doesn’t feel right.”  

Rimmer pulled him into his arms and held him, “You know what?” he said softly, “Maybe you should go home.  There’s nothing more you can do here.  And I think Mrs Jones will probably be grateful for the company.”

“No.  I’ll stay until you’re gone.  Then I’ll go home and spend the next twenty-four hours stress-eating all the products of Mrs Jones’ stress-baking.”

“Leave me some.”

“There’ll be plenty of treats for you at the celebration party tomorrow.  Don’t be greedy.”  Rimmer kissed his forehead.

“I have to go.  It’s time to suit up.”

“Okay.”  Lister remained clinging to him.

“That means you have to let go.”

“Never.”

            Reluctantly, Rimmer unwrapped Lister from his person and gave him a kiss.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.  Be good.”

“And you.”

“I love you, David.”

“I love you too.” 

Lister stood up on tiptoe and gave him a final peck on the lips, “Laters, baby,” he quipped with a sad smile.  Rimmer pulled him back into his arms and held him tight.

           Twenty minutes later, Rimmer was strapped into the pilot seat of Wildfire. He paused to take a quiet moment to himself.  Tonight, the image of him standing by the ship in his exclusively designed golden flight suit would be splashed across every television screen in the galaxy.  He was about to make history.  “Alpha Romeo, we are ready to begin countdown,” a voice crackled across the intercom.  Rimmer took a deep breath.  “Roger that.  Computer?”

“Yes, Ace?” she whispered breathlessly.  Rimmer rolled his eyes.  Leave it to a bunch of sexually frustrated, middle-aged boys to design a mainframe and this was what you ended up with.  “Everything synced and ready for launch?” he asked.

“Synced and ready, Ace.”  

“Splendid.  Commence countdown.”

“Countdown initiated.  Lift off in T minus ten seconds and counting.”

               Rimmer settled back into his seat and braced himself.  _Here we go._   “T minus nine seconds and counting.”  His throat tightened up.  Despite the showmanship and bravado, underneath it all, Rimmer had been telling the truth when he’d told Lister in that interview that he’d always been a tremendous coward.  Once he’d died, he had relaxed somewhat.  His hard-light body and vast wealth had protected him from most of what the universe could throw at him, and over time he’d developed a convincing veneer of confidence.  But he had always known that lurking beneath, there was still the scared little boy who had to be thrown in the pool before he would swim, who had hidden from bullies rather than fight, and lived in constant dread and suspicion of the unknown.  The media thought he was taking this trip for the advancement of humanity, his husband thought he was doing it out of competitive spite.  The fact was, Rimmer had been totally honest when he’d told Lister he was doing this to prove something to himself.  He was doing it to banish the lurking spectre of that little boy forever.  He was doing it so he could finally become somebody he liked, someone that David Lister deserved.  He was doing it so maybe he could finally sleep at night.  But smeg it all, he was scared.  Suddenly he was very, very aware of the empty passenger seat behind him.

“T-minus six seconds and counting.”  

Rimmer hit the intercom button.  “Mission Control, is Spanners there?”

“That’s a negative, Alpha Romeo.”  Dammit.  He was probably still down in the engineering bay, scanning the readouts like a hawk.  Reassuring as that was, Rimmer felt a pang of disappointment.  

“T minus four seconds and counting.”

“Can you give him a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“T minus three seconds and counting.”

“Tell him to smoke me a kipper.  I’ll be back for breakfast.”

“T minus two seconds and counting.”

“And tell him I love him.”

“T minus one second and counting.”

“Roger that, Alpha Romeo.  God speed.”

“T minus zero.  We have lift off.”

            There was no time to say anything more.  The jets roared into life.  Arnold Rimmer closed his eyes as Wildfire tore through the sky, leaving behind everything he’d ever known; and with it – this time forever – the demons that had haunted him his whole life.

 

            


	56. Chapter 56

             The stars soared past.  There was a flash.  There was a boom and a strange sensation as if his body had been pulled out and then snapped back like elastic.  Then there was silence.  Rimmer cautiously opened his eyes.  The ship still seemed to be in one piece.  More importantly, so was he.  “Damage report, computer,” he ordered.

“No damage reported, Ace.  All systems stable.”

“Location?”

“Dimension ident 32714.  Position unknown.  Star charts do not correspond with any information in my database.”

            Rimmer stared out of the viewscreen in awe.  He’d done it.  And he hadn’t just broken the reality barrier; he’d discovered a whole sector of uncharted space.  “Start scanning the area,” he instructed, “Map the position of all astral bodies.  The boffins are going to want every detail of this when we get back home.”

“Certainly, Ace.”

“We can get back home, right?” Rimmer added apprehensively, “The tracking worked?”

“Perfectly, Ace.  The path back to your home dimension has been successfully logged.”  Rimmer let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding and Lister’s worried brown eyes shone in his mind.  _I’ll be home soon, baby._

“Any sign of life out there?”

“Not yet.  I will alert you if life signs come into range.  In the meantime, cabin conditions have now stabilised, so you may remove your helmet and seatbelt and move around the craft.”

            Gratefully, Rimmer pulled off his helmet and gloves and tried to smooth down his distressed curls.  He unbuckled his harness and stared out at the seemingly empty expanse of open space before him.  The mission was undoubtedly a success so far, but he was puzzled.  Wildfire was supposed to lead him to his dimensional counterpart, but this place was a desert.  What would he, or anyone for that matter, be doing out here?  Something had obviously not gone to plan but until he got back to his home dimension and the tech boys started examining the data, there was probably no way of knowing what.

All at once, everything went black.  Rimmer gasped and braced himself.  It took a few seconds of blind panic for him to realise that the ship hadn’t lost power.  Someone had their hands over his eyes. 

“Guess who?”  

                      He jumped out of his chair and spun around to see Lister standing behind him with a very smug grin.  “David!” he exploded, “What...?  How did you...?”

“Surprise.”

“ _What are you doing here???_ ”

“I built a secret stowaway hatch into the storage hold.”

“A stowaway hatch?  I’ve been over the blueprints for this ship a thousand times!  There’s no stowaway hatch!”

“Not on any of the blueprints you’ve seen.”  

“So you’ve been feeding me false layouts of this craft for months?!”

“Well, I wasn’t going to show you the real ones, was I?  Then it wouldn’t have been a secret. I’m not an idiot.”

“You devious little goit!”

“Hey, don’t take it personally.  You must know that the boss very rarely gets the whole story about what’s happening on the ground.  It was on a ‘need to know’ basis.  As it turns out, I was the only one who needed to know.”

            Rimmer lunged at him and Lister darted out of the way with a smirk, putting the passenger seat between them.  “So all that crap you fed me earlier about how you couldn’t bear to watch me leave was just a cover story so you could slip into your hidey-hole?” Rimmer seethed as they circled each other.

“It wasn’t crap, it was true.  I really couldn’t bear to watch you leave.  Not without me.”

“So you decided to put yourself and this whole mission at risk?”

“Listen, if I wanted to sabotage this mission I could have done it at any point I wanted.  A little tinker here or there and this ship would have never got off the ground.  You probably could have never proved it was me, either.  I weighed up my options, I did some homework.  I concluded that this was, in your words, an acceptable risk.”

“Well, it turns out you were wrong!  Because when I get my hands on you, you’re going to find out that _I_ am a bigger risk than all the cosmic forces of dimension-tearing, reality bending pressure, that you have so blithely disregarded, combined!”

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?” Lister wheedled playfully, “Not even a teensy little bit?”

“Right now, I honestly don’t know if I want to kiss you or wring your neck.”

            Rimmer made a grab for him and Lister scampered to the rest area at the back of the craft.  Rimmer tackled him and they toppled onto the hard bed.  Rimmer straddled him and pinned him down.  “You are in _so_ much trouble, miladdo.”

“Well,” Lister replied lightly, still looking infuriatingly pleased with himself, “there’s nothing you can do about it now.  I’m here.  And you’ll have to wait until we get home to punish me properly, because you have no playroom in this dimension.”

“Is that so?”  Rimmer pulled a lever beneath the bed and a cabinet slid out from underneath, filled with whips and sex toys.  Lister’s jaw dropped.  

“What?” Rimmer challenged him, “You thought you were the only one who could build secret compartments?”

“Who exactly were you planning on using this stuff with?” Lister demanded, outraged.  “Were you expecting to pick-up this dimension’s Dave Lister and indulge in a bit of extra-marital marital sex?” Lister swiped at him furiously.

“I wasn’t expecting anything of the sort,” Rimmer grabbed his wrist and lowered it firmly, “But I do know that Dave Lister, in whatever dimension, is a stubborn, disobedient little git who won’t do what he’s told if he can possibly find a way out of it.”

“You _knew_ I was going to find a way to come with you?”

“I knew,” Rimmer finally gave in and smiled, “that you were going to try.”  He dropped on top of Lister and squeezed him in a tight hug.  Lister hugged him back.

            “Ace,” the computer trilled, “I have now detected signs of life in the vicinity.”  They sat up and scrambled to the console.  

“Where?” Rimmer asked, “One of the asteroid belts?”

“There is a ship just a few clicks away.  It contains four life forms.”

“A ship?” Lister leaned over Rimmer’s shoulder, “Out here?”

“I have scanned their records.  The ship is called Red Dwarf.  The senior officer is second technician Arnold J Rimmer, deceased.”

“He’s a hologram too?” Rimmer asked surprised.  

Lister looked at him sympathetically, “You really don’t have much luck, do you?”  

“This makes no sense.  Why would they have revived me if I was just a second technician?  And why would I be in charge?”

“According to the ship’s log, a radiation leak exterminated the rest of the crew.”

“Smegging hell.  That’s awful,” Lister looked aghast, “When did this happen?”

“Approximately three million ago,” the computer replied smoothly.

“What?” they yelped in unison.

             Rimmer shook his head, “That can’t be right.  Check the details again.”

“The dates appear correct, Ace.  A single crew member survived the accident, preserved inside a stasis booth.  The computer kept him inside the stasis field until the radiation had diminished to a safe level.”

“Three million years?” Lister repeated, stunned, “You know what this means?”  He turned to Rimmer.  “This ship can do more than jump through realities.  She can jump through time.”  As they stared at each other, processing this new revelation, the computer continued her brief.

“Their primary mission is now to return surviving crew member, David Lister, to Earth.”

Lister’s eyes widened as this sank in.  “Wow,” he said flatly.  Rimmer ran a hand back through his hair.  

“Return to Earth?  After three million years?  That’s insane!  There’s probably not even an Earth to go back to.”

“Nevertheless, that is their objective.”

“That poor bastard,” Lister looked stricken, “Forget Earth.  The whole human race is probably extinct by now.  Can you imagine...?” he trailed off, horrified.  Rimmer reached over and took his hand.

            “Well,” he remarked, “I suppose this explains a few things.  When we first made the jump I couldn’t understand why Wildfire would have ended up somewhere so remote, when there must be so many other realities where it could have tracked me down in our own solar system.  But it wasn’t just looking for me.  It was looking for both of us.  It was trying to find another place where we were together.”

“It’s unbelievable,” Lister whispered, “When you think of our life back home, of how amazingly lucky we are – by _anybody’s_ standards – and yet maybe all it took was one decision, one wrong turn...and we ended up like this.”

“Who knows?” Rimmer shrugged, “It’s not perfect.  But maybe they’re happy.  At least they’re together.  That’s got to count for something right?  Why else would I have been revived as a hologram here?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lister relaxed slightly.  Rimmer nudged him.

“Want to go over and say hi?”  Lister hesitated for a second, then smiled.

“Yeah.  Let’s do it.  Maybe it will cheer them up to know that, somewhere out there, things worked out differently.”

“My thoughts exactly.  But before we deal with that,” Rimmer scooped Lister up in a fireman’s lift and carried him purposefully back to the bed, “I think we need to deal with you.  Because you have been a _very_ naughty boy.”

 

            Some time later, voices echoed in the empty halls of the deserted mining ship.  Out in the furthest reaches of deep space, there was nobody to overhear what was said but, if there had been a sentient life form passing, they might have heard this....

 ....“So, you’re a multibillionaire with your own mega-corporation.  You’re an accomplished pilot who has just built the most extraordinary ship of all time and flown it across dimensions, making you the greatest hero in human history.  And Listy here is your faithful assistant.”

“Oh, no, he’s not my assistant.  We’re married.”

There was a loud thump.  Another voice piped up, “Oh, great.  Goalpost head’s gone and crashed again.”

“I’ll go and warm up the resentment drain, sir.  We’ll have him reset in a jiffy.”

“Um...maybe we should go.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best, man.  But thanks for dropping in.”

“No worries.  Good luck with the whole getting back to Earth.”

“Cheers.  So...you say you guys are married?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.  How about that.  So, how did _that_ happen?”

“It’s kind of a long story...”

 

                                                                                                                                                 The End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fifty Shades Of Smeg](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106873) by [Zolturates](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolturates/pseuds/Zolturates)




End file.
